


String Theory

by HollowMachines



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mostly Drama, Some Action, Some Fluff, a small bit of promptio near the end, alternate take on the episode ignis alternate ending, episode ignis alt ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-28 14:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15708987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowMachines/pseuds/HollowMachines
Summary: Ignis is like the missing piece of a puzzle that makes him feel whole. Noct doesn't know him, he's sure, yet his heart aches as if to suggest otherwise. Especially when that same man is fighting to change destiny itself.Memories, it seems, can be such fickle things.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been working on this for half a year, and I've been running myself in anxious circles about whether or not to post it. It's completely self-indugent. I wanted to play around with a few different ideas and they all ended up in this one fic.

He stands staring up into the night sky, the air crisp and cool against his skin. Stars litter the darkness with a kind of brilliance Noct couldn’t have imagined within the confines of Insomnia’s wall. The world around him is void and weightless, and he senses nothing but the unending night.

“It’s truly a beautiful sight,” says the man beside him, though Noct doesn't turn his head. He can't.

The voice is deep and accented; soothingly familiar. But Noct can’t conjure an image of the person standing so very close to him despite the way their fingers thread together perfectly.

The stars above flicker with a dangerous intensity and the wind picks up, tugging at his hair and his clothes.

Noct frowns.

_This is wrong._

The cold sinks into his bones. He folds his arms, digging fingers into his sleeves as his body is wracked with shivers. One by one, the stars burst in an array of colourful space dust before fading away into nothing. The presence beside him moves away, but Noct can’t lift his arm to reach for him. He only manages a soundless, breathless gasp.

“Our past forms the foundations of our present,” the man says, floating farther and farther away.

Noct screams at himself to turn and look upon this person he feels he should know, but his body won’t move despite how much his heart aches. Tears sting his eyes and roll down his numbed cheeks.

A noise pierces the silence, a high-pitched ringing that grows louder and louder until it fills the void. Noct falls to a crouch, his hands flying up to cover his ears but the noise persists. The ground is gone beneath him and he floats in an abyss of inky blackness, the stars having burned out like supernovas long ago.

“We mustn’t forget that which made us what we are today.”

Noct reaches blindly towards the voice but his hands find nothing. The mysterious figure is gone, leaving nothing but a pit of regret in Noct’s stomach. There’s no face, no name, nothing.

Everything goes silent. He plummets through the darkness like a rock. That dark shape is there above him, always the same distance away even as he falls through nothing. Noct reaches out, fingers stretched as far as he can because something deep and carnal inside him is scared to lose whoever this is.

But he meets nothing but the emptiness. The form before him is nothing but a cruel tease. It follows him down, always just out of reach; always shapeless, always faceless.

 _I know you,_ he tells himself.

_I know you, I know you, I need you, I—_

_Why can’t I remember?_

He hits the unseen ground.

 

 

* * *

 

 

   
Noct jolts up in his seat and groans when his neck cracks painfully in protest. In his addled state he rubs at the wetness under his eyes and tries to focus his blurry vision as it’s assaulted by too-bright light. His mind is still caught in the vestiges of a dream that feels more like a memory. There’s an aching throb behind his eyes.

Thinking back to that scene and that man leaves Noct feeling empty; like there’s a missing piece, and the fact that he doesn’t know why is irritating. His jaws tightens enough that his teeth grind together from both the pain in his head and the left over frustration of his dream.

“Great, his Highness is awake. Finally.”

Oh. The car isn’t moving.

Noct winces up to the clear blue sky and the wisps of clouds lazing by, then around at the dull, dusty outskirts of Leide. It’s uncomfortably hot, he notices, suddenly very aware of the sweat matting his hair and wetting his back and arms. Just great. He’s practically sticking to his seat.

He looks to Gladio, who’s leaning over the side of the car and partially blocking the sun from his eyes.

“Having nightmares or something?” He asks. His concern is subdued because he too is sweating his ass off, and he’s been up and moving around.

Noct shakes his head slowly, trying to ignore the strange sinking feeling in his stomach. He pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. _Though maybe nightmare is a better word for it._

“It’s nothing, forget it. Why aren’t we moving?”

“Broken down,” Prompto groans from somewhere behind the car, though Noct can’t actually see him when he turns to look.

He clicks his tongue and groans a little too loudly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the back of the driver’s seat. “Are you serious?”

“Looks that way.” Gladio folds his arms and does well to hide his own irritation. “Can’t get a good signal out here either, so we’ve got one option.”

“Don’t say it.” Prompto moans. “It’s too hot. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Hammerhead’s supposed to be a little ways out, so we’ve got to get going while it’s still daylight.” Gladio stretches his arms up and rolls his shoulders before heading to the back of the car and kicking Prompto’s foot where he’s lying on the asphalt. “Come on, up. We’re going to have to push her all the way there.”

With a sigh and some unintelligible grumbled protests Prompto rolls to his feet and moves to the passenger’s side of the car, hands finding purchase on the hot metal. Gladio leans into the back.

“You too, Noct. No royal privilege out here.”

For a moment Noct keeps his head buried in leather and lets the heat bear down on his neck, breathing deeply through his nose. Finally he throws the door open and practically melts out of the car. He takes up a grip on the door and windshield of the driver’s side.

Gladio calls from the back. “Ready?”

A grunt in response.

“Steady.”

“Some wedding trip this turned out to be.” Prompto grumbles.

“Push!”

It takes hours. Heat pelts them constantly and sweat soaks his skin. The dessert air is so humid that it makes Noct’s throat burn and his lungs constrict with the dust kicked up from the wind. The breeze itself isn’t even cool enough to help.

The only reason Noct doesn’t end up complaining as much as Prompto does the whole way is because he’s too engrossed in his thoughts.

He can’t quite shake the dream from his mind, nor the uneasy feeling it’s left him with. When he looks between the faces of his friends, there’s a sense of wrongness. As the car rolls agonizingly slowly down the road, his eyes wander to the driver’s seat more than a few times. It’s empty, of course.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
Hammerhead is… quaint. It’s a garage; a pit stop, not a town, so Noct guesses he can’t expect too much from it. Cindy’s nice enough though, but Noct feels like he’s going to be hearing an earful from Cid for a while. Plus, seeing as how their Crown City currency is useless out here, he’s now a pauper of a prince. At least Cindy was nice enough to lend them some cash, and get them some work hunting down monsters. Not something Noct has ever done, sure. But he’s ready and willing to help.

As Prompto heads into the convenience store, eyes trained on all sorts of gadgets Noct can’t hope to understand, Gladio heads over to a small trailer stall stocked with weapons. Noct notices him chatting up a woman in bright clothes and glasses.

Rather than joining them Noct makes his way to the diner, drawn in by the smell of grilled meat and spices; some familiar, some not. If anything else his stomach grumbles happily, and it’s a nice respite from the heat.

As he steps into the doorway he bumps into a man on his way out and he mumbles a brisk, “Uh, sorry.”

The man is quiet for a moment and Noct thinks he’s going to yell at him or something, but instead he clears his throat and says a quick, “Ah, no, my apologies.”

Noct’s head snaps up at the man’s voice and he’s gazing into wide green eyes through a slim pair of glasses. The man is a bit taller than Noct with styled brown hair and a strong jaw line complimenting his sharp, more angular features. He’s on the thinner side, but Noct can tell from their run in that he’s packing a good amount of lean muscle. All in all, if Noct is being honest with himself – and in the comfort of his own mind he is – the guy’s attractive. Very much so.

What catches Noct’s interest though is that the guy is donning a dark leather jacket over a deep purple button down, fitted pants, and dress shoes, all of which Noct can’t help but think wouldn’t look out of place back home. It’s very Lucian by design, and if the guy hadn’t backed away before Noct could be sure he would have sworn he could make out small skull insignias around his outfit.

The man is as stunned as Noct feels, and only then does Noct realize he’s staring.

“Is something wrong?” the man asks, clearly a little taken aback.

Noct shakes his head a little too hard. “Uh, no... sorry.”

He pushes past the man with nothing but a slight brush of shoulders and ignoring the way his cheeks redden. He refuses to turn around and instead focuses on crushing down his embarrassment at being caught blatantly staring at some stranger.

What’s worse is even as Noct drops down into a barstool at the counter, he feels eyes on his back. He leans his elbows on the table and drops his head into his hands, racking nails through his damp bangs and wishing he could just shrink into obscurity. His chest hurts.

“Got a problem, pal?”

Gladio. Thank God.

Noct turns his head just enough to peer over his shoulder. Sure enough the stranger is shifting his attention from Noct to Gladio, looking a little sheepish. Yet Noct sees the slight parting of his lips, the crease of his brow, and the slump of his shoulders. Noct can sympathize with the guy’s uneasiness.

Finally the man answers, hands raised apprehensively. “No, forgive me. It’s nothing.”

The man leaves swiftly, and now it’s Noct who's staring. He can’t explain the odd sensation inside him. He doesn’t know the guy but he feels like maybe he should. Maybe he’d seen him around Insomnia before? But Noct isn’t that good with faces; hell he barely remembers most of his classmates. But that man…

Noct huffs, folding his arms and dropping his head to rest on them. His headache is back, and his stomach twists with an anxious bit of nausea. He doesn’t want to think about that guy anymore. The only thing he wants to think about is how they’re going to scrape up money out here and get some decent food before his stomach eats itself.

Gladio comes to lean on the counter beside him.

“Who was that? Someone you know?”

Noct shakes his head. “No, just some guy.”

He feels like a liar.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
Galdin is, without a doubt, the best part of Leide as far as Noct is concerned. The open air, the water as reflective as glass stretching out from the sand until it meets smooth waves, and the sea breeze coming in off the beach and keeping everything nice and temperate puts it at the top of Noct’s list fast.

Gladio’s barely pulled the car to a stop before Noct is hopping out and heading across the burning pavement and up onto the pier that overlooks the water. He takes in everything.

The bright sunlight reflecting off the water is nearly blinding and paints the sand a lovely golden colour, making him wish he’d had the forethought to grab his sunglasses. A cool breeze that tousles his hair, throwing in into his eyes, and it makes the waves lap and ripple along the shoreline. In the air hangs the smell of salt, and from the extravagant looking restaurant across the way wafts the scents of seafood and fried rice, and something tangy Noct can’t place. All he knows is he wants to try it, his mouth already watering in anticipation.

“Sure beats the Crown City,” Prompto says as he comes up beside him, already snapping away with his camera.

“Yeah,” Noct breathes in a lungful of sea air. “No kidding.”

Gladio flanks his other side now, looking down the long curving pier to the restaurant and beyond. He frowns.

“Wasn’t there supposed to be a ship here for us?”

Noct blinks down to the noticeably empty dock. “Yeah, they’re was.”

“So… where is it?” Prompto says.

Gladio nods his head towards the pier. “Only one way to find out.”

The three of them head down the pier, catching sight of trevally and barrelfish as they shoot through the water beneath them. Noct smiles a little as he watches them flitter around the support legs, skittering away into the shadows as wood creaks under their boots. He wishes he could fish, but there isn’t time; not now anyways.

They’ve got to get to Altissia. He’s got to see Luna again. God, he hasn’t seen her in years, and he still vividly recalls the last time he’d seen her, during the attack in Tenebrae. He still has nightmares about it sometimes. He only wishes he was seeing her now under better circumstances; with a more agreeable pretense than a marriage he doesn’t want, and he thinks she may not either, if not for her sense of duty.

It makes his heart sink to imagine it; not because he doesn’t care about her, but because somewhere deep down in that strange hole in his heart he feels like there’s something else. Like a political marriage betrays some other part of him, almost like it would be dishonest. That misplaced guilt cuts him to the bone, but it’s not like he can commit infidelity when he’s never even dated. It’s all more than a little ridiculous, surely, and only scares him off thinking too long on the idea all together.

Noct looks to his right at Gladio and Prompto who are engrossed in a conversation, then to his left. There’s nothing but empty space beside him, but it feels wrong, almost cold. It shouldn’t be empty, he thinks, and the very thought makes his headache from earlier slither back.

He’s already getting sick of feeling like something’s missing, like he’s forgetting something. Maybe he left something back home? Except that doesn’t sound quite right either, because it doesn't feel like he's lacking something physical, but rather something _inside him_ feels hollow. Regardless of how silly it sounds in his head it gnaws at him constantly, and has been ever since they’d left Insomnia. He wonders if the others feel the same, but he can’t think of how to ask without sounding crazy.

When the group reaches the restaurant and the fancy sign with swooping cursive letters that reads, ‘ _The Mother of Pearl_ ’ they are stopped almost instantly by an older man in fancy attire that is noticeably out of place. Noct can only describe him as unnerving.

“The boats bring you here? They’ll not take you forth.”

Noct already hates him. The fact that he knows why they’re there only makes him worried that he knows who they are, and he seems like the type of person for which that could be a problem. He really doesn’t want to deal with this guy right now.

He’s glad when Gladio steps up, putting himself between Noct and the strange man. “Yeah? And what’s your story?”

“Just an impatient traveller, ready to turn ship.” The man waves his hand absently as he saunters past them. Then he spins on his heel, a flicker of something sliver flying towards Noct so fast he flinches on reflex. It’s intercepted by Gladio, who opens his palm to reveal a coin.

“Consider this your allowance.”

“Oh yeah?” Gladio scoffs and tilts his chin defiantly. “And who’s allowing us?”

The man smirks and it reminds Noct of a cat playing with a trapped mouse. “A man of no consequence.”

“Yeah, right.” Noct watches the strange guy leave, thankful with each step that puts distance between them. He’s clearly left the three of them unsettled, to say the least.

“I don’t know what it is,” Prompto says when they finally head into the restaurant. “But if we could never run into that guy again I’d be okay with that.”

“No argument here.” Noct mutters, taking a seat at the bar in the centre of the lounge.

He tries to focus back to where they are to calm himself. The restaurant is nice; warmly lit and open aired, with flowers and decorative fixtures all around to make it feel homier. It reminds Noct of a calm evening soiree with the way the light keeps everything a dim orange hue.

Past the clinking of glass and silverware he can hear meat sizzling on an open grill. It adds a muskiness to the restaurant, filling it with the smell of fish frying and steaming vegetables that leaves him wanting; well, the fish does, anyways.

Gladio orders their food from a nice women behind the bar while Noct spins in his chair absently, taking in the faces of other customers and quiet conversations. His eyes wander along some of the paintings and strange decorations lining the fancy wood-panelled walls.

He frowns when his eyes land on the strange man from before with his back to them as he speaks quietly to someone. It only takes Noct a second to realize who it is.

The other stranger from Hammerhead, the handsome one Noct had been staring at. One would almost think they knew each other, but the handsome guy’s jaw is tense, his eyes steely; almost murderous. The strange guy has a vice-like grip on the other’s arm, and Noct is sure now that whatever they’re saying, they clearly are not friends. He keeps watching, curiosity piqued.

Finally the handsome guy yanks his arm free and backs off. Whatever is said is stern and certainly not pleasant but the creepy guy only looks smug as he walks off down the pier until he’s out of sight.

Noct breathes deeply. He’s glad to see the man leave, if only to avoid a physical confrontation, which based on handsome guy’s face is where it may have been heading.

His eyes shift back to the stranger from before, who has sunken into an empty lounge chair with clear agitation. He presses his palms together and leans his chin into the bend between his thumb and finger, looking pensive and deeply unnerved. Some crazy part of Noct wants to get up and talk to the guy, but he doesn’t move. A light pounding start up just behind his eyes and he winces, pressing a palm to his forehead.

Prompto pokes his shoulder. “You okay, dude?”

Noct groans and spins back in his seat. “Yeah, yeah, just—”

“That the same guy from Hammerhead?” Gladio says quietly beside him. Noct hadn’t noticed that he’d been watching as well.

“I think so, yeah.”

Gladio frowns, eyes weary. “Think he’s following us?”

“A little suspicious there or what?” Prompto says.

“It’s my job, especially with how things are right now. Like that guy from before? So we can’t be too careful out here. Besides, I’ve got to look out for prince charmless over here.”

Noct winces at the hard slap to his back, ignoring the jab and instead shaking his head. “I doubt that the guy’s following us. Probably a coincidence.”

“He was staring at you back there,” Gladio says as he turns to face the bar again. “Like he knew you.”

Noct kicks his feet absently, tapping his finger against the stone countertop. “I told you I don’t know him. What does it matter anyways?”

Gladio nods his head back over his shoulder. “Because he’s staring at you now, too.”

It’s embarrassing how quickly Noct lifts his head. Indeed when he looks back the guy is watching them. When he catches Noct’s eye he quickly turns his gaze elsewhere, though more for show as he’s clearly aware that Noct has seen him. In one swift motion he rises from his seat and leaves the restaurant, heading down the pier with a confident saunter that doesn’t quite match the solemn look on his face.

Noct watches him go. His heart sinks a little.

 

 

* * *

  
 

 

They stay in a suite in Galdin that night. Upon waking late in the morning, Noct groans and stretches, squinting out over choppy water and an overcast, gloomy sky. To his surprise both Gladio and Prompto are slouched down in chairs by the windows.

“Morning.” he croaks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Neither of them speaks, but they do turn to look at him. Prompto look solemn and his eyes are red, Gladio almost looks pitying. Noct frowns, and his eyes settle on the newspaper sitting on the table between them with growing dread.

“What are those looks for?”

Gladio bows his head and scoops the paper up, fingers crumpling the edges as he brings it over to Noct. Apprehension keeps him glued to the bed, tucked under the secure warmth of the covers.

“Heard a knock on the door this morning. Found this sitting outside. And that.”

He points to a small plate sitting on the bedside table. It’s a single fluffy pastry with a powdery top and fruity filling, dressed up with a couple small round reddish-purple berries atop the crust. Beside it, a cup of what Noct can assume by the smell is green tea with lots of milk and sugar sits steaming on a saucer.

He doesn’t drink tea often since he finds it too bland, but he has a cup on the occasion he’s restless or in a really bad mood, and has done since he was a kid. The pastry too smells delightfully familiar, something he hasn’t had in ages but nevertheless draws out a sense of nostalgia. His dry mouth waters almost instantly.

Though he can’t imagine who left them, especially since neither of his friends really know about his preference for either.

“Who…?”

“Don’t know, but it’s a good thing they did. You're going to need them. Just... here.” The newspaper is dropped in his lap.

Noct swallows. His blood pounds loudly in his ears as he reaches for it. Anxiety twists his gut when his eyes scan the big bold letters across the top of the page. He stares for a while, his tired mind struggling to comprehend the simple yet devastating words before he eyes. Suddenly, like a splash of cold water to the face, he’s very awake.

_Insomnia Falls_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire work has been written out and edited extensively, so I guarantee you will see the end of it. 
> 
> For those who are interested the title is not so much inspired by the scientific string theory, but rather the song [String Theory](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_jBdQk244ec) by Les Friction


	2. Chapter 2

When they arrive at Wiz’s Chocobo post Noct finally feels like he’s reached some level of normalcy again. Plus he finally manages to put a name to the handsome stranger from before.

It comes a little awkwardly. Upon arriving to find the chocobo’s were unavailable, the three of them had been quick to take up the hunt for the behemoth that had been terrorizing that part of Duscae. Noct is itching for a fight; still angry and eager after the news about Insomnia.

The power of kings still feels odd inside him. The newfound weapons of the old kings he can feel hidden just out of sight within his armiger is a strange sensation, but he feels more powerful for it. He wonders if his father felt this constant surge of slumbering power, enticing as it waits to be unleashed.

As they sit for a quick meal before departing and talking quietly amongst themselves, Gladio is suddenly out of his chair. Noct swallows his chips quickly and turns just in time to watch Gladio’s back as he stalks his way towards the outposts’ shop.

There's barely time to register the person who’s gained Gladio’s attention before the man is being grabbed roughly by his lapels and slammed hard into the wall, hard enough that it shakes and forces a strangled groan from the stranger's mouth.

“Whoa, Gladio, what the hell?” Prompto jumps to his feet and rushes over, a hand on Gladio’s shoulder and the other on his arm.

Noct hurries over and his eyes widening in recognition at the stranger from before, looking understandably more uncomfortable as he’s forced back against the wall.

“Alright, what the hell’s your deal?” Gladio practically growls into the guy’s face. “Are you following us?”

The man frowns and grits his teeth as Gladio shakes him for an answer. His eyes wander between them all, but when they meet Noct’s curious gaze, everything in his expression softens. It’s a little weird to be sure, but Noct only stares back with a brow raised.

Finally that smooth, accented voice says, “No, I wasn’t. I assure you this is merely a coincidence. I apologise for troubling you.”

Gladio’s grip looses only slightly, but then he shakes his head. “Yeah, am I supposed to believe that? You’ve been staring at us since we got here.”

Well that’s news. Noct hadn’t even noticed the guy was here, and clearly neither had Prompto because he’s now looking at the guy suspiciously too.

“Who are you?”

Again, the man’s eyes flicker back to Noct. He’s uneasy, clearly, though something tells him it’s not because of Gladio. This guy doesn’t seem to find him particularly intimidating.

“Ignis. Ignis Scientia.”

A jolt of hot pain shoots through Noct’s head so fast he visibly flinches back. The others notice when he hisses and rolls his head back to rub at his temples to try and ease the sudden discomfort.

“Noct,” Prompto pats his shoulder. “You okay?”

He groans, the pain already ebbing away as quickly as it had come. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”

Gladio watches Noct for a second for any further signs of distress but Noct waves him off. So he turns back, fists pulling tighter against the stranger’s jacket.

“So, you want to tell me why you’ve been watching us then?” He asks gruffly, shaking the guy ever so slightly.

“I spent some time in the Crown City.” The man, Ignis, says. “I admit I recognized you, Prince Noctis, but that’s all.”

Noct frowns at the title and he lets his hands fall back to his sides. He’s not really a prince anymore, but he still feels crushed under the weight of the mantle of king. So no, right now he can pretend to be neither. Out here he’s not anybody special.

Noct places a hand on Gladio’s arm, pulling gently. “Let him go.”

“Noct—”

“Just do it. It’s fine.”

He isn’t sure he’s right, yet there’s something about this man that almost screams _trust_ , and though Noct can’t explain why, he wants to listen to it, if only because they can’t afford to make any more enemies with Niflheim already chasing them across the country.

With a disgruntled sigh Gladio lets Ignis go, and the man is quick to smooth down his clothes and adjust his glasses. He’s back to looking prim and proper in no time.

“I apologise if I’ve seemed suspicious,” Ignis says. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“Uh-huh.” Gladio looks him up and down as he steps back. “So you want to tell me why we’ve run into you three times now, then?”

Noct looks to him again, more curious than anything. He should be suspicious, but he can’t really bring himself to be.

Ignis clears his throat, doing well to hide the dryness in his voice as he speaks. “I assure you it was coincidence. I was on my way to Altissia, before the Empire blockaded the area.”

Prompto bites his lip and Gladio scoffs.

“Yeah, funny how that happens.”

Ignis frowns. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Did you know that’s where we’re headed?” Gladio says, and Noct can feel the armiger begin to pull as Gladio readies to draw his sword. “Think carefully how you answer that.”

Ignis shakes his head. “Not until just now, as it happens. You would do well to mind what you say to strangers.” His voice strains on the last word, like it’s foreign to his tongue.

But Noct only snorts, his lips turning into a grin. The way the sound draws Ignis’ eyes to him and his expression softens a bit. Gladio on the other hand is not so amused, but he grunts and backs off.

Prompto pokes his shoulder. “He’s got you there, big guy. Amateur move.”

“Shut up.”

Ignis sighs deeply, pushing off the wall finally and standing straighter. “In any case, seeing as I find myself in need of gil and transportation, I have a rather presumptuous proposition to make. I overhead you accepting the hunt for the behemoth. I don’t suppose you’d require some assistance?”

He sounds insistent and his voice betrays a level of concern. Noct can’t decide if it’s because he’s a compassionate soul or if he’s trying to imply that they need his help. Somehow Noct thinks it’s more the former, so he bites back his scoff at the suggestion.

“You,” Gladio folds his arms. “Want to _help_?”

“Are you any good in a fight?” Prompto asks.

Noct is more than a little enamoured of the small quirk of the man’s lips as he draws an ornate pair of daggers from a cross-holster at the back of his belt. His fingers twirl the blades expertly, smooth steel glinting in the sunlight as they spin in a casually elegant dance.

“Very.”

Looking him up and down, then to Prompto and Gladio and back, Noct smiles as he meets hopeful green eyes.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

   
Noct isn’t the best ‘people person’, so the ease with which he makes the decision to include Ignis in their hunting party surprises even himself. But he finds he doesn’t regret it. The guy is level-headed and perceptive, and he helps balance out Prompto’s more nervous disposition.

Delving deep into the rocky crag, the dense fog smothers much of the sunlight and keeps everything musky and damp. They track the huge beast at a snail’s pace, quietly following its trail of ripped up trees and ravaged undergrowth. It’s massive dark form looms just barely visible in the fog, growling loud and base enough that Noct can feel in through his bones if he gets too close.

Their first altercation against a group of voretooths goes smoothly. Noct is distracted on more than one occasion by the way Ignis so flawlessly manoeuvres around the battlefield, daggers wielded with great skill. He’s fast, flexible, and agile. He manages to almost effortlessly incorporate himself into their group’s fighting styles, synchronizing attacks with Prompto, then Gladio, and then Noct. He can even swear he’d seen Ignis’ eyes closed more than once, though he convinces himself he’s imagined it.

Noct is also keenly aware of how often he finds Ignis at his back or at his side, never more than a few feet away. The two of them coordinate a couple strikes as if it’s instinctual, and Noct feels so alive after each matched blow. He’s beaming when he and Ignis take down the last of the monsters, his pride getting the best of him when he finds Ignis smiling back.

He looks pleased as he wipes sweat from his brow and sheathes his daggers. He offers Noct a hand up from where he’s kneeling in the grass.

“Impressive. You fight well.”

Noct grins, breathing deeply to calm his racing heart and the blood still pounding through his veins as he takes the offered hand and pulls himself to his feet. His skin tingles against the cool leather gloves, and an unusual wave of familiarity washes over him. He grips Ignis’ hand a second too long, though Ignis makes no move to pull away either. Noct feels like he’s being studied, but he can’t bring himself to look away.

 _Who are you?_ His mind whispers.

 _You know,_ Ignis’ eyes seem to answer.

A dull throb kicks at the base of Noct’s skull and he flinches.

“I’ll admit,” Gladio’s voice breaks the moment and the two pull away quickly. “You’re not half bad.”

Ignis ducks his head, the flush of his cheeks nearly hidden by their dim, foggy surroundings. “Thank you. I could say the same of you.”

Prompto comes up next to him, loading his gun idly. “I didn’t hit you at all, did I? I’m not used to watching out for three people in the field.”

Noct thinks he sees Ignis wince, but it’s gone a moment later. “Not at all, you did well. I admit, you three make an effective team.”

“Uh, yeah. Okay, cool. Thanks.”

They journey further into the grove, following the thundering footsteps and loud growls of the monstrous behemoth. With the fog layered thick it’s cold and eerie, and Noct finds himself keeping close to his friends. Ignis especially stays at his side constantly, providing an appreciated warmth.

It’s the first time Noct has looked to his side and not felt like there’s been too much empty space. The four of them just feels right.

They continue on, crawling through collapsed remnants of buildings and thick undergrowth which drips cold dew that dampens their hair and sends shivers up Noct’s spine as it meets his skin. He feels a little stuffy with how thick the air is. In the back of his mind he prays he doesn’t come out of this with a cold. Or dead, for that matter.

Their first encounter with the behemoth is too close for anyone’s comfort, and Noct will forever remember the deafening roar and the stench of its rancid breath as it roars mere inches above their heads where they hide. The ground vibrates when it stomps off and they continue on, and Noct dwells on the way Ignis’ hand had gripped tightly to the back of his jacket.

By the time they track the beast to its lair it’s nearly dark. The last vestiges of sunset are dimming away into darkness, but Noct refuses to turn back. Gladio argues the dangers of fighting this thing at night, and he’s not wrong, but Noct urges them forward, spurred by determination. He’s not camping out here, risky or not; he wants a warm bed and a hot meal sooner rather than later, so they’re finishing this now.

So they proceed.

“This creature has a dislike of fire.” Ignis whispers as they near the huge lump of dense muscle and matted dark fur resting on a rocky mound at the far end of the clearing, partially obscured by decrepit ruins.

Noct looks to him and nods, conjuring a firaga spell into being. Ignis doesn’t look surprised by Noct’s magic, in fact he looks as if he’s expecting it. He’s moving on ahead before Noct can think more about it.

“How are we doing this?” Prompto asks, gun poised, eyes watching the creature wearily.

Gladio hefts his sword over his shoulder. “Brute force, mostly.”

“And a little bit of magic.” Noct holds a firaga spell close at hand within the armiger, the heat sending a phantom warmth through his finger tips. “So basically, we plow right through it.”

“Well at least it’s not complicated.” Gladio mutters.

Noct catches sight of the explosive barrels around the area. When he looks to Ignis the man seems to have spotted them as well because he nods.

“Shall we, then?”

Noct summons his engine blade, the crystalline magic illuminating his face. “Let’s do this.”

The fight ensues well into the night. The behemoth recoils at each explosion of fire that lights up the battleground and sears it’s thick hide, spitting out loud guttural roars with each bullet or slash to its flesh.

Noct feels his energy waning as he phases and attacks sporadically, summoning fire spells every time his friends back off. He warps back to hang from a water tower, feeling his body succumbing to the strain of his magic as he recovers his strength and watches over the fight. Concern has him tensing up and ready to jump back into the fray when the beast swings its claws too close to Prompto who ducks out of the way and back with a yelp. Luckily Gladio is there to block the incoming blow and Ignis takes the chance to strike deep into the monster’s flank, and it howls.

It’s tail whips around violently and Noct is filled with dread as he follows its path in his head. When his brain supplies him with the outcome of shattered bones and blood and twisted limbs, he jumps into action before he can even think. He warps to the ground in a flash of blue light, landing unsteadily behind Ignis and shoving him harshly out of the way. Ignis yells and hits the ground just as the beast’s tail swings over his head and collides hard with Noct’s stomach before he can properly block it, sending him flying through the air.

He only distantly hears the other’s call his name as he lands painfully hard and rolls across coarse dirt. His lungs refuse to take in air and he chokes and gags, his whole body pounding in agony. Every gasp for breath is protested by his abused ribs, his body throbbing like one big bruise.

He’s vaguely aware of the cracking of gunshots and roaring, and his name is being yelled again. Footsteps fast approach, dirt scratching and kicking up into his vision. Then a hand rests gently on his shoulder, the other on his back as he’s rolled over onto his knees. Finally he’s able to take in a breath, and then another. A hand takes his, familiar leather slipping against his skin as he’s pulled slowly to stand on wobbly legs. Noct coughs a few times to clear the sandy taste from his mouth causing more jolts of pain through his body.

“Noct…” Ignis’ fingers grip his tightly, his voice practically shaking with worry.

For a moment all Noct can think about is that it’s kind of nice to hear Ignis say his name like that. _Not the time_.

“Noct! Are you alright?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. I think. Are you?”

“I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about. Why did you do that?”

Why indeed. He thinks to the way his heart leapt into his throat at the sight of the behemoth’s tail about to strike. His stomach turns imagining Ignis laying here instead of him, maybe worse off than he is now.

Finally he looks up to meet Ignis’ distressed gaze. He doesn’t like that look on him.

“What do you mean, _why_? I was helping you. And I just… my body just moved on its own. I mean, you were going to be… I was…”

_Scared._

He doesn’t get it either. Noct groans as his head throbs, dropping Ignis’ hand to dig his fingers into his temples.

It doesn’t feel right. Something’s wrong. Of course he’s not going to just let the guy get hurt, but he’s still essentially a stranger: that deep pit of dread has no basis. Yet the way Noct had moved, as if spurred by a deep seated terror because Ignis really and truly _mattered_ to him.

“Why did I…” Noct hisses as more pain shoots through the back of his head. He must have hit it when he landed. “I felt… like…”

Agitation has him squeezing his eyes shut, but he still sees light exploding behind his eyelids. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling but it’s old and familiar and deeply rooted. The throbbing increases and he realizes now that it’s not from the hit he just took. It’s more like something is trying to surface from some dark and hidden corner of his mind. It’s pulling at him, begging him to listen and understand. To _think_.

He can’t feel the ground even when his legs go numb and he sinks back down to his knees. The sounds of the fight fade. His stomach drops and his heart pounds too hard against his ribs. Tremors wrack his body right down to fingers, and the nails he’s digging into his scalp.

He can’t tell if he wants to throw up or pass out. He leans forward in preparation for either.

_It hurts, it hurts, it hurts…_

Hands land on his shoulders.

“Noct, please, you need to stop. It’s alright. You’re alright.”

He follows that voice back to reality. _It’s not alright_ , he thinks, but the pain in his head recedes a bit and he finally manages to open his eyes. Ignis is kneeling there before him, watching him worriedly. He smiles when Noct’s gaze focuses on him, sighing in relief. It’s a nice smile.

“There you are.” He soothes. “It’s alright now. Don’t think too much about it.”

 _About what_ , Noct wants to ask. But he only nods.

Ignis continues speaking softly in his ear, Noct’s hands buried into his shirt for support, until finally the world comes alive around Noct again after what feels like hours, though it's likely only been a minute or two. He can feel solid ground under him, dirt scraping along his knees, and his insides settle their turmoil.

“Noct,” Ignis murmurs once Noct has stopped shaking and his hands loosen. “Back with us?”

Finally Noct’s head clears enough that he manages a, “Yeah… yeah, sorry. I’m okay now.”

A smile and a breathe of relief from Ignis, just before a shattering roar erupts and Noct is suddenly bombarded by the sounds of the battle once more. He pushes away from Ignis quickly and awkwardly, ignoring the embarrassed heat of his cheeks as he puts a more comfortable distance between them.

“Right,” he breathes. “Behemoth.”

Ignis nods with a kind of gloomy resignation that Noct wishes he could understand. He helps Noct to his feet and brings his daggers back to hand.

“Indeed. Let’s bring it down, shall we?”

Confusion wracks his brain and keeps him glued to the spot, staring at Ignis for a moment. Whatever has just happened to him, it certainly wasn’t normal. His mind feels torn and lost somewhere in the unknown, and the frustration of not knowing why eats at him.

But for now he focuses on what’s before him; what he can understand. With an aching body but renewed vigor he summons his own blade.

“Let’s go.”

It’s only long after the battle, and after they’ve collected their bounty that Noct realizes. As Ignis takes his leave with only brief goodbyes and a lingering look to Noct, it hits him as he's slumped back in a plastic chair outside the camper they've rented for the night, stomach full and the strong smell of chocobo's assailing him.

That whole time, with Ignis by his side, the emptiness in Noct’s heart had felt just a little smaller.


	3. Chapter 3

Noct meets Ignis again, only briefly, a little over a week later. The three of them are on their way to The Disk of Cauthess, drawn by the Archean's call that has been plaguing Noct with vicious headaches for days, leaving him in pain more often than not. 

After a while he ends up taking a walk outside just to avoid the horrid atmosphere camping with Ardyn is creating. He shudders at the very thought of even being in such close quarters with the guy, but he'd been the one to point them in the right direction and offered them a way past the Imperial blockade, so what choice did they have, really? It leaves a bitter taste in Noct's mouth, regardless.

He crosses the road from the rest station and sits on the guardrail, feet tucked up as he stares up at the sky. It’s partially cloudy, but the moon does well to illuminate much of the surrounding area. His eyes follow the lines of the rocky arches as they blot out the sky and interrupts the waves of stars. The chilled breeze sends a shiver down his spine, but being so close to the disk means the air itself is humid, and Noct basks in the warmth. Going between Lestallum and the car, all he's smelled all day is the smoky, burning scent that hangs over the city, and the rubber of car wheels mixed with the leather seats. Of course, they'd all been sweating a lot under the oppressive daytime heat too. so Noct is grateful for fresh, breathable air now, and the smell of pine and fresh grass and the nearby waters of the slough.

“It’s not safe to be out at night.”

Noct yelps and nearly topples off his perch but a gentle hand at his back keep him upright.

“Shit, Ignis! Don’t scare me like that.”

Ignis hides a chuckle into his palm. “My apologies. I hadn’t realized your mind was elsewhere.”

Noct sighs and takes a moment to calm his racing heart. “Yeah, it’s been a long day. I was just trying to relax.”

“Understandable.” Ignis says casually. “I’d been wondering how you were doing since we last met. I was surprised to see you pull in to this stop this evening.”

“Yeah, we’re on our way…” Should he tell him? It wasn’t important. “Somewhere.”

Ignis hums thoughtfully. “As am I. Though I must say, you keep some interesting company.”

Noct frowns, but thinking back he can recall seeing Ignis talking to Ardyn at Galdin, though he’d known neither of them at the time.

“Yeah, tell me about it. I take it you know the guy?”

Ignis’ eyes darken and his expression goes cold. “I know enough.”

That piques Noct’s interest. He wonders what it is Ignis knows about the guy that he’s not saying but that has clearly drawn his ire. Though he can understand Ignis’ obvious dislike of Ardyn; the man practically screams ‘creepy’. As if Noct isn’t already suspicious enough of the guy.

But his words cause something to click in Noct’s mind and sharp pain shoots through his head. His pained hiss catches Ignis’ attention and immediately everything in his demeanor softens. He’s leaning over as Noct rubs fingers into his temples.

“Noct?”

“I’m fine, it’s just a twinge. I’m good.”

He’s been suffering headaches all week, but this one feels different. Something in his mind swirls and tries to shape itself but it fails to form into something coherent. This isn’t a call from the gods like some thunderous quake, it’s something else gnawing at him; an itch drowned deep in his subconscious.

Despite Noct’s insistence Ignis is shaking his head, wholly unconvinced. He’s probably remembering what happened last time, and he’s quick to move.

Noct nearly jumps out of skin when Ignis settles the back of his hand gently against his forehead. There's an intimacy to the touch that makes Noct flush and squirm under the intensity of Ignis' stare. The hand is gone a moment later, pulled back quickly as if Ignis has caught himself doing something strange. Noct exhales slowly to calm himself. He doesn’t think he has a fever, but his skin is clammy, and suddenly he’s feeling a little too hot.

“You’re exhausted." Ignis says. "You should get some sleep. I imagine you've quite the day ahead of you.”

“You have no idea.”

Ignis’ smile is strained, but he's quick to hide it. “I should be off as well. Perhaps we’ll see each other again.”

Noct kind of hopes he’s right. “Yeah, I… yeah. I should go.”

He hops down from the guardrail and heads back towards the reassuring lights of the rest stop, eyeing the camper they’ve rented with trepidation. It’s going to be a long night, one he feels may be more restless than restful.

Fingers slip loosely around his wrist, pulling him to a stop and forcing him to turn back.

“Just be careful, Noct.”

Ignis’ gaze is serious, his eyes desperately imploring Noct to heed his words. So he nods slowly, searching the depths of his gaze for answers. He doesn’t get any, but nevertheless he feels he should take those words to heart whether or not he understands what they mean.

“I will. You be careful out there too.”

Ignis releases his hand. “Of course. It was… good to see you again.”

He turns to leave and Noct watches him go, swallowed up into the night towards the nearby haven and the familiar glowing runes that shine through the night.

Any feeling of warmth in his body seeps away from him, the night feeling noticably colder. That ache in his chest is back before Noct even realizes it’s gone.

_Yeah, you too._

He means it wholeheartedly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
They're deep in the marshes of Alstor Slough, and, inevitably, the hunt they'd taken that morning at the last rest stop had taken much longer than any of them had planned. It was meant to just be a quick cash grab before they headed back to Lestallum, but now it was looking like it was going to be a long haul, and likely not the last hunt they'd need to take to scrape up some gil.

As darkness falls, camping becomes their best option as the night comes alive with monsters and neither them nor their chocobos are in any shape to handle another long journey back to the safety of the outpost. So instead they look for the blue smoke billowing up into the sky, and find safety in dragging themselves up the rocky rise of the nearest haven, glistening with sweat in the comforting blue glow and aching from sore muscles and bruises all around.

Dinner is good enough, given that between the three of them they can cook a half decent meal and Noct had managed to pull in a good haul of fish that evening; not that that has _anything_ to do with why they were out so late. Yet it still tastes a little underwhelming somehow. Noct certainly thinks he’s had better, and it makes him miss home just a bit more. Once he's finished his food he draws his knees up to curl into his chair, staring into the dancing flames of he fire, sparks dancing in the dark and heat fighting off his shivers from the cold breeze.

Surprisingly, Gladio is the first to turn in that night.

"What, tired already, mister outdoors?" A yawn interrupts any attempt Noct makes at smugness.

“Gets exhausting carrying the team all the time.” Gladio smirks, which earns him a half-hearted slap to his shoulder. “If that’s the best swing you’ve got, then clearly I haven’t been doing my job.”

He’s retreated to the tent before Noct can say anything in response, but he’s too tired to come up with a snarky retort anyways. With a good meal sitting heavy in his stomach he slumps further into his chair next to Prompto who’s idly clicking through his camera reel of the day as a bare skewer from their meal hangs between his teeth.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Noct breathes deep and focuses on the thrum of the new royal arm sleeping in his armiger. He’s eerily aware of the newfound covenant with two of the astrals and the weight it puts on his shoulders. Sometimes the power seems to flare to life inside him. His body grows heavy, solid, strong, and he can feel every vibration of the earth. Then there’s crackling along his nerves, and a cold dampness ghosts over his skin and he can practically taste ozone. In a way, he feels he is the essence of the gods themselves. He shudders to think how they all will feel, buried within his very being.

It hits him how _real_ it all is. With the covenants made and the Regalia back from Imperial hands, they’ll be heading to Altissia soon enough, and Noct isn’t sure if he’s eager or anxious.

“Got some good shots.” Prompto says, and Noct hums as his thoughts are grounded back in the present.

“Any of them of me?”

Prompto is quiet for a moment, and Noct takes the chance to lean over and peer down at the camera. As pictures scrolls across the screen, he has to marvel at Prompto's eyes for things. There's some stunningly frames shots of the landscape, some battle shots that Noct can't quite be annoyed about because they're pretty cool, and some cheeky selfies they'd taken together. As of late he's starting to notice Prompto's taking a few more pictures of Gladio than usual too, but he doesn't bring it up. A few group shots of the three of them roll by. An uneasy feeling settles in Noct’s stomach as he examines them. He can’t help but feel like there’s always just a little too much space on the left of the shot.

Finally Prompto says coolly, “Of course not. I said they were _good_ shots.”

“Okay, what did I do to you guys?” Noct fakes insult with a wave of his hands and an exaggerated scoff. He forgets about the pictures. “Like, did I set you on fire one too many times, is that it?”

Prompto snorts. “Oh come on, I forgave you for all those times. Though that last ice spell _did_ get us stuck in the lake. My toes are still kind of numb.” He kicks his feet up to the fire to emphasise his point.

“It was like, one time. Maybe two.” Noct groans.

“Four, if we're just talking about the fire spells. Do you want the number on the lightning and ice? ‘Cause I’ve been keeping count.”

“So this… _is_ about the spells?”

“Nah, I’m kidding.” Prompto nudges his arm, finger tapping his camera. “Besides, you know you’re my best subject.”

“Only because you want to sell my photos for money.”

“Hey, a guy’s got to earn a living somehow.”

Noct sighs and stands. There’s a nice balance between the cool night air and the heat of the fire, and Noct takes a moment to bask in it. He could do without the smoke billowing in his face and irritating his eyes but beggars can’t be choosers he supposes.

He looks off into the moonlit marshes of the slough. Their haven is tucked in amongst the shade of the trees but they aren't too far from the water’s edge, and he can hear the subtle slapping of water against mud. Next to the small fishing hut is the short makeshift pier jutting out from the shoreline Noct had spent the evening fishing on. There’s a figure sitting at the end of it now, though he can’t say when it got there. Noct squints, using the light of the moon to make out a silhouette.

“Huh.”

“What’s up?”

Noct shakes his head and jumps down the rocky edge of the haven. “Nothing, I’m just going to check something out. I’ll be back soon.”

Prompto finally looks up wearily. “Dude, it’s the middle of the night. So, you know, daemons and stuff? Maybe not the best time to be sightseeing.”

Noct waves a dismissive hand, already heading off across the grass. “I’m just going down to the water. I won’t be far, relax.”

“I’m not telling Gladio if we lose his royal highness on my watch.” Prompto sighs in defeat.

Noct smiles and shoved his hands in his pockets casually as he turns and heads down to the water.

Indeed as he gets closer to the pier he finds his suspicions confirmed. Ignis doesn’t seem to hear him coming, clearly too lost in whatever thoughts have him sitting out alone at night. Looking him over Noct notes the way his eyes stare unfocused out over the horizon, and that he's wringing his hands absently. He's not wearing his jacket this time, so Noct can more easily see a slump in the broadness of his shoulders, and the way the muscles up his back, through his neck and at his jaw line are all tense.    

Even though Noct makes no attempt to keep quiet as he approaches, Ignis still doesn't make an indication he's noticed him. So he decides he best just make an entrance. He strides across the pier, letting his boots slap loudly along the old wood, and only when Ignis flinches from the disturbance does Noct drop down right next to him, leaning back on his hands and dangling his legs over the edge so his toes skim the water’s surface.

“You know, I seem to remember _someone_ telling me it wasn’t safe to be out alone at night.”

Ignis, obviously startled, goes straight-backed and rigid. Noct doesn’t miss the hand that cautiously jumps back to grip the hilt of one of his daggers. It takes a moment for recognition to come across Ignis’ face, but when it does his mouth splits into a grin and the tension is gone instantly, his hand falling back to sit in his lap.

“Yes well, it seems I don’t take well to following my own advice.”

“Hey, nobody’s perfect.” Noct says with a lopsided smile. “And just for the record, I swear we’re not following _you_ , either.”

“Ah,” Ignis chuckles. “No, I wouldn’t think so. This place draws all sorts of people, it seems.”

“Maybe, but you don’t really strike me as the ‘outdoors’ type. No offense.”

Ignis hums. “While I do prefer a warm bed and a bath to be sure, I’ve admittedly grown used to spending more time than naught outdoors.”

“Where else do you get a view like this, huh?”

Moonlight washes the whole marsh in a dull blue glow and stars fill the sky, reflecting off the still waters. It’s pleasantly warm down here, and quiet except for the cool breeze that rustles through the trees and the dull humming of bugs in the reeds. There’s the overbearing smell of grass after it rains and it makes Noct feel light and fluttery.

Ignis takes a deep breath of night air and his eyes shine as he scans the tranquil sight. “There is that.”

The two of them are quiet for a time, giving Noct's mind the chance to wander. He feels calm here; after everything that’s happened with the Empire and Titan and Ramuh, one after the other, he’s happy to finally have a moment to breathe. Here with his toes just skimming the water, wood scratching under his palms, wind tousling his hair, he is free of everything.

The deep pit inside his heart feels shallower. Maybe it’s because Ignis is here; a pretty strange thought, but it won’t leave Noct’s mind.

“As I understand it, we have you to thank for putting an end to the earthquakes across Duscae and the ensuing downpour.”

Noct frowns. “How do you know it was me?”

“I hear many things in my travels.” Is all Ignis says, and he doesn’t elaborate.

Noct bites his lip, eyes narrowing skeptically.

He has to remember that he doesn’t really _know_ Ignis, and that he should still be erring on the side of caution. But the very prospect that Ignis would do him harm doesn’t sit well with him.

So he doesn’t push; not now, anyways. Ignis is a mystery, for sure, but he’s also one of a few allies they have in a world that’s trying to kill them every step of the way, so Noct’s not inclined or foolish enough to risk alliances by digging around where he shouldn’t.

Although maybe a small part of him just wants Ignis to stay because Noct likes having him around.

“So…” He rubs the back of his neck to distract from the way his cheeks flush. “You were right, by the way. About Ardyn. Total creep. And it turns out, Niflheim’s Imperial Chancellor. So that’s just great.”

Ignis purses his lips, eyes steely. “Is that so.”

Noct bristles just thinking about the trip back to the Chocobo Post in Ardyn’s airship. It may have been an all-too-convenient rescue, but it had been their only option to escape the flaming collapse of the Disc. Not that that had made it any less frustrating. The whole ride the three of them had sat huddled together in relatively awkward silence, muttering mostly to themselves and mixed only with the occasional point of dubious conversation with the chancellor. Ardyn speaks like some kind of omniscient jester playing a game he thinks only he can win. There’s something else about him too, something ancient and dark that leaves Noct feeling smothered in his presence.

A shiver runs down his spine and he leans forward to curl fingers into his knees. His eyes wander to his left, watching Ignis’ profile as it’s illuminated by moonlight. Ignis’ presence by comparison reminds Noct of warmth and security; nothing like Ardyn.

If Noct leans into Ignis’ shoulder just a bit, neither of them mentions it.

“I would be weary of him,” Ignis says after a while. “He’s no ally of yours.”

Noct huffs. “Believe me, I know. Not like I’m planning on inviting the guy to dinner or anything.”

Ignis doesn’t reply, only nods slowly and continues to stare out over the water. He looks lost in thought, or maybe buried under a pile of thoughts is more accurate. Noct just thinks he looks spent; his mind constantly working, constantly busy. He gets the impression that that’s no rarity for him.

 _Do you ever stop_? He wants to ask, but he doesn’t.

"So, what have you been up to?" 

Ignis tilts his head. "Travelling, mostly."

"Yeah, I got that much." Noct rolls his eyes. "What, am I not allowed to know where?"

It takes a moment for Ignis to answer, carefully gathering his thoughts. His next words are said slowly, like he's being mindful not to say too much.

"Old ruins and landmarks, mostly. I'm investigating some of the old lore of Eos, as it were." 

Noct waits for more, but it doesn't come and he frowns. "What, that's it?"

"Too boring for you, is it?" The corner of Ignis' mouth quirks up. "Apologies, it's just that I'm looking for certain information."

That piques Noct's interest and he leans in, eyes gleaming. "Oh yeah? What kind of certain information?"

"It's... personal."

"Personal?" Noct echoes. 

Ignis turns sharp eyes on him, his face serious. "I'd rather not say more. It's of a rather... _sensitive_ nature."

With a sigh Noct backs off, shrugging his shoulders. His feet kick back and forth, toes rippling the water. "Okay, okay, fine. I get it. I won't ask."

It's a lie; he's still _very_ curious, but Ignis doesn't seem the type to cave to pressure easily, so he's not likely to get any more out of him. "Is it at least going okay?"

"Perhaps," Ignis sighs curtly. 

"You're no fun." Noct nudged his arm with an elbow, and it succeeds in rubbing that stressed look of Ignis' face a little, until he's greeted with a small grin.

"Ah, so I've been told. I'll work on it."

Noct almost wants to yell at him that no, he shouldn't change a damn thing. But he's distracted suddenly when Ignis stretches, and the moonlight pours over his skin. Noct's gaze falls to the smooth expanse of his neck and he winces, lips tightening into a thin line. 

"You're being careful though, right? Not getting into trouble?"

Ignis tilts his head back to face him and says nonchalantly, "Nothing I can't handle."

"Oh, yeah?" Tentatively Noct reaches up and hovers two fingers just over a long, thin scar that cuts across the side of Ignis' throat, faded enough that it's only barely visible in the moonlight. "What's this, then?"

While it's a bit jagged it's not deep, but even so it's too close for comfort and Noct can't help but bite his lip nervously as he traces the line back and forth, never quite touching the skin. Ignis tenses anyways, throat bobbing when he swallows hard, eyes downcast to follow the movement of Noct's hand. 

"An unfortunate run-in. Someone I'd been searching for, though I admit I was no match for him." Ignis brings his hand up to cover the mark, which in turn forces Noct to drop his own back to his lap. He can tell by his face that Ignis is less than pleased with the result. "He left me this, as a reminder."

"You're lucky that's all it was." Noct mumbles before he can stop himself. Ignis only laughs dryly. There's nothing funny about it, and clearly Ignis agrees. His fingers rub over the scar a few times, expression tight as laments whatever fight had caused it.

Neither of them have any more to say on the matter though, and it goes quiet between them for a time, tension sitting heavy between them. Noct can't help the way his eyes flicker back to Ignis' face occasionally, following the bend of his cheekbones, over the sharp line of his jaw to his throat until he's down staring at the scar again, a wound dangerously close to lethality. A shiver runs down his spine when his mind is invaded with the image of a blade pressed deep into his skin, blood dripping over cold steel. 

Shaking his head violently, Noct turns his thoughts away, back to the here and now. It's much more comfortable, anyways; too many people around him have died already. In an attempt to settle his nerves he yawns and arches his back until his spine pops satisfactorily. With a thump he leans back until he’s lying flat on the pier with nothing but a sea of stars filling his vision. His hands lay limply at his sides, knuckles rapping against rough wood. He’s acutely aware of the leather of Ignis’ gloves where their fingers have made contact. Ignis doesn’t move his hand though, so neither does he.

When Noct yawns loudly again, Ignis chuckles. The sound resonates deep in his throat which sends a pleasant tingle up Noct’s spine. 

“Perhaps it’s best you go back and rest, Noct. Before you fall asleep out here.”

“Nah,” Noct shrugs and settles himself more comfortably along the wood planks digging into his back. “I’m good. Think I’ll stay a bit longer.”

He isn’t sure what compels him to do it, but he curls fingers into the back of Ignis’ shirt and pulls the man down to lie beside him. Ignis swallows a tiny yelp as he drops onto his back with a hard thud, eyes finding Noct’s in the dark and reflecting the moonlight beautifully.

“Stay with me a while.” Noct says to answer the unvoiced question in Ignis’ stare. “You look like you need to relax. Maybe if you’re going to be around for a while, I can convince you to come fishing with me sometime.”

Instead of intrigue or curiosity or whatever Noct is expecting, Ignis looks stricken. His lips part like he wants to say yes, but then he’s closing him mouth without a word and turning his head back to the sky.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I…” Ignis takes a slow, shaky breath. “It’s nothing.”

It’s clearly _something_ but Noct finds he can't bring himself to pry. Not when Ignis suddenly looks so distressed for no reason he can make sense of. He can only stare at Ignis’ perturbed expression for a moment before his insides twist too much and he sighs dejectedly, turning his eyes back to the sky.

He searches for a point of calmness again and finds it in the warm body beside him, and the subtle scent of cologne and spices Ignis carries with him that just seems to fit him perfectly. It reminds him of home a little, gives him a sense of ease, and it feels good having that again.

It's odd, because he can't imagine Ignis embodying anything else. Why, he couldn't say; it's as much a mystery to Noct as the man himself. Is that even possible, keep secrets from yourself in your own head? Becase Ignis doesn't feel new, or unfamiliar. In truth, he never has, even back when Noct has first bumped into him in Hammerhead. There's _something_ about him Noct can't put his finger on, something important, something that has to do with why Ignis still feels so evasive and estranged.

There’s a twinge of pain through his skull before he can think more about it. It flares up in violent throbbing waves and Noct’s entire body tenses until his teeth grind and his fingers are digging into the wood.

Another spike of pain and he twitches again, his eyes screwing shut. In the darkness of his mind he’s bombarded with flashes of images, none of which are coherent enough for him to latch onto. But he reaches for them nonetheless, driven by an anxiousness that begins to bubble up inside him. What he can conjure up is smells and sounds and sensations across his skin, all assail his senses suddenly, foreign and familiar at the same time, Phantoms haunt every corner of his mind, but they’re all nameless. Perhaps they weren’t once upon a time.

It’s this place, this moment, this _feeling_ ; he knows it, he’s lived it before. It's comforting because it brings him a sense of nostalgia, and that alone hit Noct like a punch to the stomach, and suddenly it's too hard to breathe because he doesn't know _why_. He's at the mercy of his thoughts that violently wax and wane with the throbbing of his head and the pounding in his ears. He's falling, tumbling headlong into an abyss of incoherence, any sense of reality slipping from him until all he knows is the tingling of his limbs.

Ignis may not have noticed the way his breathing has quickened, but his head tilts when Noct lets out a strangled groan.

“Noct?”

Ah, that voice. 

“Noct, what’s the matter?”

“My head,” he grits outs. He can’t manage anything else.

A shuffle of clothing and the pier rocks gently as slender fingers entwine with his own, perfectly filling the empty spaces. Noct clings to that warm comfort like a lifeline, trying to climb back up from the dark pit of his mind he’s trapped in.

“Noct, listen to me. You’re going to be alright, but you need to stop.”

As if Noct even knows what it is he has to stop. But he tries, he focuses on Ignis because he’s the only thing he can comprehend from wherever his mind has gone, running circles around the smoldering embers of something unknown. He tries desperately to steady his breathing. Everything feels distant around him, and his body has gone numb save for the squeeze of fingers around his own, more a pressure than a comfort.

He swims up to the surface of his consciousness slowly, as if shackled to weights, as if he’s been trapped underwater and is desperately seeking air. The flashes behind his eyes flicker and fade little by little until his mind can no longer conjure up those disturbing and distorted visions andh is ears aren't buzzing with static.

The first thing he knows upon swaying back to his senses is that their joined hands sit warm and tight between their bodies and Ignis’ voice is soothingly sweet in his ear. His hot breath heats his skin and ghosts across his cheek. At some point they’ve rolled to face each other, with Ignis’ other hand gripping his shoulder to hold him close. Noct’s dotted vision sees nothing but the purple of Ignis’ shirt and follows up the smooth expanse of his throat, zeroing on that dreadful scar again.

“Focus, Noct, that’s it. Forget whatever it is that’s troubling you and focus for me. Come back.”

He's so tired, so numb, but he can’t ignore the way Ignis’ sultry voice and gentle hands calm him. He breathes deeply, willing himself to snuff out the last remains of his episode. The pain in his head wanes and fades out slowly, until all at once his exhausted muscles give out and his whole body goes limp.

Ignis continues to murmur soft words into his ear, and despite the nearly suffocating proximity Noct is too worn out to move away. Right now he’s perfectly content with the reassuring fingers curled into his hand, the warm body pressed close, the pacifying scent surrounding him. The hand Ignis has on his shoulder slides up to cup his jaw, thumb brushing along his cheek and Noct, despite himself, leans into the warmth of his palm. His head falls to rest against the pier, eyelids becoming unbearably heavy.

He’s not himself, he knows. This touching— this _closeness_ — isn’t something he makes a habit of; not when he’s conscious anyways, though he’s been told he clings when he sleeps sometimes. In any other circumstance he’d be pulling away, but this feels different. Right now, this is exactly where he wants to be.

Exhaustion whisks away any fears or doubts until he finds himself falling into a light sleep right there on the dock without a care in the world. He can't be asked to think too hard about what just happened to him, or about the fact that it's exactly the same thing that happened before. It's the kind of headache he keeps getting when he pokes and prods at his memories too much, at all the fuzzy blank spaces in his head. Instead he let's his thoughts fade out, and even when he feels Ignis draw back and put some space between them, he doesn't think to move or speak or do anything but lie there. 

Ignis doesn't go far though; one final time Noct manages to pry his eyelids open enough to see Ignis' blurry form sitting at the edge of the pier, eyes downcast as he breathes slow and deep.

"It's alright now, Noct. Just rest." He says quietly, like he knows Noct is watching him.

Noct obeys, because right now sleep sounds perfect.

A little while later he’s vaguely aware he's become weightless and limp as his body is slowly lifted. Arms support his back and under his knees as carefully as they can given his size, and he’s carried away from the water and back up towards the haven. Ignis doesn’t complain in the least, nor does he say a word when Noct’s face ends up squished into his shoulder and hot breath teases the skin of his neck.

Noct’s only half-conscious; too tired to protest the dark behind his eyelids being invaded by dull firelight or the way he’s man-handled into another, more muscular pair of arms.

 _Gladio_ , his addled mind supplies. Prompto must have woken him up.

There’s conversation, brief and quiet around him, but he can’t focus enough to make out anything that’s said.

In the morning after the most satisfying rest he’s had in a long while, he asks about Ignis. Gladio tells him what he already knew; that Ignis had carried him back to the haven, much to the surprise of the others. He explains how the two had shared words; ones of solidarity as Gladio had been thankful Ignis had taken care of him. Prompto had offered for Ignis to stay, but he had politely declined.

Noct doesn’t bother to ask where Ignis went. He doubts they know either.

In the early morning light he sits tucked up in a camp chair, staring out at the emty pier they’d occupied last night. He clenches a hand over his heart as it could combat the tightness of in his chest.

The ache is there, ever present once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope ya'll are ready for Noct to have a lot of headaches. These boys are going to suffer all the emotions


	4. Chapter 4

Lestallum is beautiful at night, and it is best experienced there at the outlook. The dry, humid heat of the day has died down, the meteor glows bright and enticing in the distance as smoky blue flames lick upwards into the sky, and the noises of the crowded streets have faded to boisterous drunken laughter and the strings of instruments being plucked smoothly. Noct takes in a long, deep breath of night air, savouring the smell of grilled skewers and foreign spices that waft on the wind as his eyes drift closed.

In the dim of it all his thoughts wander to home. To the enemies they’ve met and the people they’ve lost. He thinks of Luna and hopes she’s okay. He wonders if his father would be proud of him.

When he opens his eyes again with a long and slow breath, he’s not alone at the outlook anymore. He knows it isn’t his friends— they’d gone off into town a while ago on their own escapades, and Iris had gone back to the hotel after dragging him around half of Lestallum that evening.

“So... you’re sure you’re not following us?” He asks with a lazy grin as he leans an arm on the balustrade and props his chin in his hand.

There’s a small chuckle from his left. “I assure you I’m not. It seems we’ve made friends of coincidence.”

Ignis moves quietly to stand next to Noct, leaning his arms over the rail as he gazes out into the distance. There’s more space between them than there needs to be, and it feels like Ignis has done it on purpose.

“I apologise for disturbing you,” Ignis bows his head slightly. “If you wish to be left alone…”

Noct shakes his head. “Nah, it’s cool. I was just looking for some peace and quiet, but you can stay. I don’t mind. But if we keep running into each other people are going to talk.”

“It’s all they ever seem to do. But seeing as you’ve been presumed dead, I doubt you need to fear any tabloids writing of your exploits or questionable acquaintances.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got my resources covered. And what great _exploits_ would the papers write about anyways? Do you think they’d get a kick out of me wrangling frogs, or how about the fact that I rescued a truck full of beans? Which are disgusting, by the way. Think it’d be scandalous to know I took a twelve hour nap after spending the day trudging through a swamp to kill an oversized chicken smelling like garbage? Or I could list my top ten favourite fishing spots for them, including the one I almost drowned at trying to reel in a grouper.”

Ignis laughs at that, ringing delightfully through the air. “I’m sure the people would have a field day. How truly inspirational you are; the textbook definition of a prince.”

Noct snorts. “What textbooks are you reading?”

“The kinds that are in dire need of revision.”

Noct smiles a little. He enjoys the ease with which he can talk to Ignis, it’s nice. This banter is refreshing, because jokes aside their journey has been long and arduous, and Noct is just grateful for any moment of respite.

A comfortable silence falls over them. Noct thinks back to their last meeting and nearly asks about what happened, or where Ignis went, or why their hands clasped together had felt so _good_ , but he thinks better of it. He has so many questions, but he doubts Ignis will provide answers.

Maybe, despite the restlessness gnawing at him, Noct doesn’t want to know.

Ignis hums and turns his gaze upwards. “It’s a beautiful night. Do you watch the stars often then?”

The lights reflect and dance along Ignis’ glasses and Noct can't help but stare as he says, “All the time. Ever since I was a kid.”

“It’s truly a beautiful sight.” Ignis muses with a tilt of his head. “I admired them much as a child myself. I got myself into all sorts of mischief.”

“Yeah? You probably weren’t as bad as me though. You strike me as more of a, ‘do as you’re told and follow the rules’ kind of guy.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Somehow Noct isn’t surprised at all. “Yeah, well, I was definitely the ‘escape my room as much as possible until I have half the guard looking for me’ type of kid.”

“Ah, so a problem child.” Ignis teases.

Noct shrugs. “They were the ones with the problem, not me.”

A distant memory comes to mind. He’s in a field on a warm spring night, no more than eight years old with a large book of star maps and constellations spread open on his lap. It’s glistening pages are scratched and worn from use, abused by youthful and excited fingers.

He’s sitting on the edge of big scratchy blue blanket in the dark, grass tickling his legs as he stares up into an array of stars painting the sky. He even recalls a wisp of nebula, all yellows and reds. He thinks it must have rained recently because he can almost smell the freshness of the air, the damp grass, and blooming flowers. Some of those flowers are sitting in a pile next to him, picked so he could take them back home, maybe give some to his father.

A wave of nostalgia washes over him and makes his heart ache for simpler days, but he smile nonetheless. “I got into all kinds of trouble, but it was worth it. I don’t know what it was, there was just… something about stars and all those stories that was always so cool to me, you know? It’s amazing. I feel so small and insignificant when I look up there…”

Ignis tilts his head, brow arching upwards like Noct has said something strange, and though Noct can practically feel it he doesn't tears his eyes from the sky.

“I know, I know. It sounds stupid but there’s something nice about being able to feel that way sometimes. After this accident I had when I was younger, I would sneak out from my room all the time to watch the stars just because I _needed_ to get away. I needed to feel like nothing mattered, like I wasn’t suffocating. Like I wasn’t special, I guess. My dad… he always worried about me. You'd think he'd keep a guard on me or lock me in my room or something but no, he never stopped me. Looking back, I think maybe it’s ‘cause he understood.”

Ignis only hums in response, his head bowing slightly. His brow is furrowed, a frown tugging at his lips. Noct doesn’t know why, but it makes him sad, too. Though he always turns sombre when he thinks of his father lately, because all Noct can think about are his regrets over their parting words, and for not trying harder to spend what little time they had together. If he’d only _known_ … but then again, he always knew he would lose his father, he just wished it hadn’t been so soon. Not like this.

He folds his arms and rests his chin on them, the light fading from his eyes. “I miss him.”

Why is he even telling Ignis any of this?

“I heard the news about Insomnia,” Ignis speaks softly. “And about your father. I didn’t have the chance to say this before, but I’m deeply sorry for your loss.”

Noct nods absently, eyes downcast and his nails scratching at stone. “Thanks, but it’s okay. He would want me to keep moving forward, and I will. I _am_. It’s not like I’m going to abandon my kingdom or my people. They’re all counting on me, right?”

Finally Ignis looks at him, and Noct sees his eyes shine and a smile overtakes his face. He’s practically glowing with admiration, and though Noct doesn’t quite understand, it makes him feel reassured.

“You truly are a good man, with the makings of a great King.” Ignis says, so assured in his words like he has complete and utter confidence in him. But then he brings a hand up to his mouth, stifling a laugh. “Though you still have some growing up to do.”

“Wow, thanks.” Noct huffs with no real vitriol.

Once again they fall into a peaceful silence. It takes Noct’s mind back to those childhood nights out under the stars. He thinks back to that book; wonders idly what happened to it. Thinking back he’s pretty sure the book was given to him by someone, but he can’t recall who.

In those memories he always has the distinct sense that he’s not alone. There’s someone with him on those grassy hills outside the city or Citadel rooftops or in the dense flower garden in the courtyard. An empty space like a shadow sits with him in his mind’s eye, holds his hand, points up to the sky and voicelessly tells him stories of warriors and monsters and lovers. It’s not his attendants, not his nannies, it’s someone else, he’s sure. But he can’t put a face to it no matter how hard he tries.

That same unknown presence sits with him at home as a child, when Noct is avidly trying to avoid doing his schoolwork. It's with him when he's sitting on the couch in his apartment playing videogames, it's there during all those annoying social events he has to make appearances at — it helped him learn to dance for that ball, didn't it? It's even there in the memory of the night Noct rushed to the hospital after his father collapsed from overwork, sitting with him, bringing him something hot to drink and forcing him to sleep, if only for a few hours until his father awoke.

There's too much. His heartbeat quickens. Again and again he tries to bring a face to mind, or a voice, _something_ , but it never works. He shudders and anxiety settles low in his chest and makes his stomach churn. A dull throbbing starts to pound at the back of his head and he winces.

“You seem troubled.” Ignis says, facing him with some concern. The distance between them doesn’t shrink.

“Just…” Noct grits his teeth as the pain grows stronger and makes his head swim. “I was trying to remember something, but… my head is killing me.”

 _Not this again_ , he curses himself.

But it’s enough to finally draw Ignis closer to him. He places a careful hand on Noct’s shoulder, face twisted with worry.

“It’s alright, Noct.” He says gently. “Don’t push yourself. Just relax. Breathe.”

Noct takes a deep breath and tries to will away his thoughts. It’s like reaching for the embers of memories that don’t exist, and his fingers slip through ash and dust. There’s an incompleteness to them; an intrusive emptiness.

Regardless, the pain makes it hard to focus. Screwing his eyes shut he tries once more with futility to make sense of what’s missing, but it only makes his headache flare and he nearly screams with the sudden agony of it. Blood pounds in his ears so loud he fears for a moment that he’s actually bleeding, drowning out everything around him. The world around him shrinks to nothingness, his body shaking in the unnerving quiet.

“Noct, you need to stop.” Ignis says again, more urgently this time but echoing and distant.

With a firm pull Noct thumps into Ignis’ chest and arms wrap around him until there's the gentle weight of hands on his back. Instinctively he struggles against his hold for a second, uncomfortable with the feeling of being restrained and smothered when all his body wants to do is writhe and escape itself, but Ignis’ hold doesn’t relent and soon Noct’s energy is gone. He sags heavily into those supporting arms, too pained and exhausted to protest anymore.

It’s an awkward hug, but Ignis’ presence is the only tangible thing to Noct right now, so he keeps his thoughts anchored on the gentle hands holding him up and the warm body he’s pressed against. Returning from whatever empty void his mind has cascaded down into proves difficult with no traction in his weightless state, so instead he pulls himself towards his one support like an anchor. With some effort he forces himself to inhale slowly then pushes it out through dry lips, fingers digging into Ignis' bicep and creasing the leather of his jacket to the point he fears it may actually tear.

“That’s it, breathe. Just like that. You needn’t think about it anymore. You’ll be alright.”

Noct focuses on the deep smoothness of his voice and wonders why Ignis sounds so distraught. More deep breathing and slowly those twisted memories begin to fall away, nothing but grains of sand slipping between his fingers. The ground is hard stone under his feet again, the cold night breeze striking his skin and making him shudder. He comes back to the real world as if waking from a dream. Ignis remains a solid point of normalcy the whole time.

With frustration already flaring up inside him Noct groans loud enough Ignis must hear it because his hands begin to rub up and down along Noct’s back to calm him. It’s nice, if Noct is honest with himself, but it doesn’t leave him feeling any better. It’s like he’s plagued with this _thing_ in his mind that he can’t make sense of, that he can’t make heads or tails of because every time he tries it lashes out with visceral claws.

He can’t help but huff loudly in annoyance, but his body is too haggard to do much else. He’s had enough for tonight. Right now he feels vulnerable, like an exposed nerve. He’s raw and drained, emotionally laid bare and in want of a warm bed and soft comforts, no matter how embarrassed he’ll be to admit as such to himself later. So it’s a small blessing having Ignis beside him now, if only to help sooth his nerves.

But that changes when Ignis draws his hands away as soon as Noct has his legs sturdily under himself again. Lifting his head Noct stares at him in confusion when he continues to back away until there's a substantial distance between them. It’s a small action that speaks volumes, the sudden loss leaving Noct feeling like he's been abandoned, and he can't deny that it hurts.

Ignis doesn’t quite meet his eyes but he must feel the way they beg for answers; his eyebrows are drawn in and there’s a hint of teeth digging into his lower lip.

“I should go.”

 _Why_? Noct wants to ask, but he can’t get his mouth to work right so he only stares. This is all too much. He feels fluttery and agitated. Part of him wants Ignis to stay. He doesn’t understand why he feels like he has to leave; like he’s _afraid_ of whatever’s just happened, and that only serves to drive Noct’s curiosity. 

But then again Ignis always feels kind of distant and difficult to understand. Noct should summon up the last remnants of his strength to grab Ignis by his lapels and demand answers, but his body won't move. It won't do any good, anyways. He's seeing the pattern emerge, but he's not sure how Ignis fits into it, if he actually does at all.

“Noct, you should return to your room and rest.” Ignis’ shoulders visibly slump as he turns away, intent on ignoring and avoiding whatever it is that's just happened _again_. “It was… good to see you again, but I think it’s time I moved on.”

It takes a moment for him to move, like some part of him hopes Noct will stop him, but Noct can’t find the words he wants to make him stay. So he lets Ignis go, watching him walk away until he’s almost swallowed by the night. Back into the shadows, into obscurity and solitude. Back out of Noct’s life.

In a fit of panic he pushes off from the balustrade and forces his voice to work again.

“Cape Caem!”

Ignis stops mid-step, and his head nearly turns back before he stops himself.

Noct coughs at the ache of his throat. “Cape Caem is where we’re heading. Just so you know.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Ignis’ voice is so quiet Noct almost misses it.

“I … I just am.”

_I want to see you again._

The thought startles him but he keeps the words trapped behind his teeth. He really does want to see Ignis again, and he wants to know _why_ he wants that.

There’s a tension in Ignis’ body like he’s warring with himself on whether to go or stay. But eventually he continues walking, never turning back. Noct’s heart sinks more with each step he takes.

Then, just loud enough for him to catch, he hears, “Perhaps I’ll see you there, then.”

Noct grins. He thinks Ignis may be too.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Something about the seaside of Cape Caem feels different than Galdin, but it’s no less beautiful. Noct had spent half the day down on the rocks fishing, toes dipping into the seafoam that bubbles up from between the dark, pourous rocks of the coast.

Throughout the day he's joined by his friends. Iris and Talcott stop in at seperate times but with the same level of excitement and energy Noct sometimes envies. Between the two of them he's enlightened with stories of gardens and sea shoals and cactuars, and Iris is nice enough to bring him down some food and drinks when Noct forgets to come back up for them on his own.  

Of course he sees the others on and off too. Prompto at one point pulls him away from fishing long enough to rope him into a spur-of-the-moment photo-op right there on the rocks, keeping the jagged coastline and lighthouse present as a beautiful backdrop in each photo. Gladio comes down a while later, and they hang out and talk perfectly normally until he nearly pushes Noct into the ocean for a snippy comment, albeit a joke.

It had been about Gladio leaving them for the last couple weeks, something Noct hadn’t had the chance to properly discuss before now. He knows _why_ he left; Gladio had sat both of them down during camp one night and told them everything. But Noct hadn’t had much to say about it at the time. Now he's had more time to think on it, and despite the fact it’s still a bit of a sore spot because Gladio just _left them_ , he understands why he did it. He's proud of him, and he’s thankful that Gladio came back at all given what he’d been through with Gilgamesh. He’s better for it too, Noct has noticed. He’s back to his usual confident, slightly overprotective self, and Noct isn’t going to complain, even if they tease each other about it sometimes.

Besides, he and Prompto hadn’t been alone in the Vesperpool. Aranea had made a more than fitting companion, despite the fact they’d been enemies during their first encounter. Noct likes her; she’s a damn good fighter and a strong leader, but she’s not careless, nor heartless. Her battle sense and rationale makes it easy to understand why her men are loyal to her, regardless of their profession.

All-in-all it's been hectic, so Noct revels in the chance to relax in a safe harbour like Caem. Though the air hangs thick with anticipation that everyone can sense, for just a moment he can let all that weight slip from his shoulders and catch his breath.

Right now he stands at the top of the lighthouse, looking out over the water at the fading light of dusk, and he feels lighter. It’s so close now. Just across the water is Altissia, and Luna, and another covenant. Whatever lies beyond that, he doesn’t know for sure—all of which leaves him feeling both eager and apprehensive.

The last light of sunset paint the sky in oranges and pinks and the heat of the day is slowly cooling against his skin. Glow bugs are already floating around in his vision, and crickets chirp down in the grass below. Waves break over the rocks along the coastline in a constant rhythm that his body sways back and forth with just a little.

His phone vibrates a few minutes later.

 **[Prompto]** _Hey, so Ignis is here_

Noct bites his lip to prevent the way his mouth wants to split into a grin.

 **[Noctis]** _I’m at the top of the lighthouse_

 **[Prompto]** _I’ll let him know_

A minute goes by before Noct gets the next message.

 **[Prompto]** _I guess you knew he was coming then?_

 **[Noctis]** _Yeah, I told him_

 **[Prompto]** _Is there something going on you want to tell me?_

 **[Noctis]** _No_

 **[Prompto]** _Some best friend you are_

Noct chuckles but forgoes replying when he catches the hum of the elevator as it ascends. He drops to the floor and leans his back against the metal shaft of the elevator, feeling the vibrations up his spine. His heart beats just a little lighter when he hears the elevator reach the top and the doors clunk open. Footsteps cross the metal walkway beside him.

“It’s quite the journey you’ve made to be here.” Ignis says by way of a greeting.

Noct hums, fingers tapping against the floor. “We’ve come a long way.”

Ignis stands for a moment, eyeing the ground as if debating whether he wants to sit. But eventually he does when Noct gives him an expectant nod. He drops to sit with his long legs stretching casually out in front of him, crossed at the ankles and his hands resting in his lap.

“You’ve been well, then?”

“Can’t complain. Not much, anyways.”

Noct is acutely aware that Ignis is keeping his distance, an obvious rift between them just like back in Lestallum. It's no surprise, given what happened last time, and it explains Ignis' look of discomfort, like he isn't sure he should even have come. He's staying away to give himself an out should things go bad again. 

But Noct rectifies it by sliding across the floor until their shoulders bump together before he crosses his legs and stares out over the water. Regardless of how messed up this whole situation is, Noct wants to pretend that everything is okay, even if only for the moment. He knows Ignis shoots him a disapproving look but he ignores it.

He understands why, if only a little. He’s had time to think on this for a while, and he can’t shake the feeling that whatever is going with him lately, Ignis has something to do with it. Or at least he knows something about it, because Noct isn’t blind to the fact that he always seems to be around when the headaches get really bad, or even just when he thinks about him too much. It sounds crazy, but he can’t think of anything else to explain it, and too much weird shit has happened in his life for Noct to just dismiss it.

But he isn’t sure how to bring it up. It feels like a touchy subject, one he still doesn’t fully understand and Ignis clearly isn’t keen to share. Maybe he doesn’t even know, though his behaviour has been too odd for Noct to really think that’s true. He's trying to keep his distance, so he must to some degree know more about what's happening than he's letting on, surely.

“Noct,” Ignis says after a time — slowly, as if he’s savouring the way the name rolls off his tongue. “I haven’t much time, but I don’t wish to leave anything unsaid. What's about to happen, just…. Please be careful. Be kind to yourself, and trust in those around you. It’s easy to succumb to despair, but please, don’t let it consume you.”

It’s not what Noct is expecting at all, and he’s so derailed that he just sits in silence for a moment. In any other circumstance he may appreciate the sentiment, but from Ignis’ voice it almost sounds foreboding. He’s sure his confusion shows because Ignis smiles back at him reassuringly. Noct knows a forced smile when he sees one.

“What do you mean?”

There’s something in his face — his eyes feel older, experienced, saddened. To Noct it’s like there’s a weight bearing down on Ignis’ shoulders that may very well be comparable to his own.

“I only wish you happiness in your future endeavors.” Ignis shakes his head, the ghost of his smile still sitting sombre on his lips. “The path you walk isn’t an easy one; my only hope is that you live to see your kingdom and its people thrive once more.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. What are you talking about?”

Ignis sighs resolutely and his body sags. “Nothing, it’s nothing, I… just a bit of whimsy on my part. Forgive me.”

“No, no, you don’t get to keep doing that.” He’s had enough of this. Noct’s hands turn to fists, one slamming against the floor when he twists to face Ignis. “Everything about you confuses me. You keep saying all this cryptic shit and then you just disappear. You’re hiding things from me, I know it. What I don’t get is why.”

“Noct—”

"You know what's happening to me, right?"

Ignis' mouth opens and then snaps shut and he turns away. He says nothing.

Noct clicks his tongue. "Why can't you just tell me?"

"It's complicated, Noct. You don't understand—"

“No, _you_ don't understand!” Noct groans in frustration. “There’s this _thing_ in my head like… I don’t know, like something’s _wrong_ , but you’re… and I don’t really even know anything about you, but when you’re around, I feel….”

That gets Ignis’ attention and his head snaps up. He almost looks hopeful, but it slips from his face a second later, replaced by a passive look of intrigue.

But it’s enough to make Noct swallows the rest of his jumbled words. It’s too strange to say. It’s some kind of emotion he can’t quite describe, he just knows it’s a part of him; a part of him that’s _missing_.

Ignis breathes deeply through his nose and his fingers twist idly in his lap. Instead of speaking his gaze wanders out over the waves, barely visible in the last of the light. He’s sitting right next to Noct, but he looks miles away, swept off by the ocean.

Noct tightens his jaw, but his brow creases.

“Ignis, come on, say something.”

“I cannot go back now,” Ignis says firmly, so quiet it’s almost lost in the wind. “There was nothing there for me any longer. I swore I would see this through, no matter the cost.”

Dread seeps into Noct’s body. The wind is warm, yet he’s practically shaking. His heart pounds inside his chest, and he can’t stop fidgeting.

“Ignis, what are saying?”

“It’s a burden I chose to bear, Noct, and I’ll gladly bear it alone.”

“Damn it, Specs! Just tell me what the hell is—”

_Oh._

Ignis is staring at him now, eyes wide.

What had he called him? Noct shakes his head, but the nickname continues to echo in his mind.

_Specs. Iggy. Ignis._

He’s heard that before, right? There’s something deeply personal and endearing about the way those names swirl around in his head, and roll off his tongue so naturally. His thoughts wander on their own, back to a distant childhood memory as it floats to the surface of his consciousness.

He barely registers the dull throb of pain behind his eyes as he’s suddenly thrust into a vision of his room at the Citadel. He’s no more than twelve years old and lying flat on his back in his bed, staring out huge glass windows into the night time cityscape of Insomnia with wonder in his eyes. Someone is beside him; merely a dark mass in his peripheral but to his dismay he can’t give it a shape.

But that same shape takes his hand and the young Noct in the memory beams, pointing out the window excitedly. The shadow speaks, it’s voice warbled and inhuman because Noct can’t for the life of him recall who it is he’s with.

_One day we’ll be free to travel the world, and the stars will all be yours, Noct._

Then he hears his younger self’s voice, so hopeful and full of childish naiveté, and his throat tightens and goes dry.

_Really, Specs? You promise?_

_Of course._

_And you’ll be with me, right?_

_I’ll stay by your side, to whatever end._

Something wet slips down his cheek. He’s crying.

“Noct…” Ignis sounds so heartbroken, and so very far away.

But he makes no move to wipe it away, merely lets the tears flow all too easily as he stares out at nothing while his heart throbs and emptiness settles deep inside him.

“What…” Noct swallows hard, voice crackling. Finally he brings a shaky hand up to touch the wetness of his face, drawing his damp fingers back to stare down at them. “Why am I…?”

Pain blooms all over, pounding at the base of his skull and behind his glassy eyes. His mind brings forth more jumbled images like crumpled scraps of paper, all missing something. It's that empty space that shouldn’t be, haunting the corners of his mind every time he thinks on it too much. Noct groans and draws his shoulders up as his muscles spasm.

“Noct, what’s wrong?” Ignis says with alarm when Noct slumps forward with his hands clutching at his head.

“I… I don’t know. Just... shit, that hurts.” Noct grits. God, it’s happening again. He should have know it would. Blood pounds loudly in his ears and his vision blurs. That unbearable hole in his chest tears itself apart. 

“Noct, whatever you’re thinking about, you need to stop.”

_What does that even mean?_

All these memories flood in, overwhelming him; watching the stars on a grassy hill, a night drive with him in the passenger’s seat, a vaguely familiar piano tune, a sweet pastry that always tastes a little different, the intoxicating smell of cologne, lips pressed tentatively over his own, gentle hands roaming over sensitive, sweat-slicked skin….

Each memories is static, jumbled up and blurry, and there's that persistent darkness in all of them, shadowing some missing piece of the picture. His head throbs more and more as each one passes, until his stomach turns violently with nausea. If he doesn't just pass out, his head may very well explode first.

“Noct, stop. I beg you, don’t do this to yourself.” Ignis pleads from beside him.

Noct is only vaguely aware that he’s leaned sideways into Ignis and there’s an arm around his back, the other hand resting on his knee. He can’t feel the floor beneath him anymore, or the wind on his face. There’s nothing. In desperation he reaches out and digs his fingers tightly into Ignis’ jacket. Everything is just pressure, his nerves burning so much he feels like his skin is on fire, and every touch from Ignis is a painful pressure, but still he holds on because he just needs _something_ tangible to cling to before he slips into nothingness.

None of this makes sense. These are his memories but he doesn’t want to be here, he wants desperately to escape his own mind. It’s wrong; there’s so much wrong.

“Don’t try to remember.” Ignis whispers in his ear.

The flush of hot breath over his skin brings him back to himself a bit, and Noct leans in without meaning to. His body tingles like each nerve is on fire yet he's shivering uncontrollably. Ignis is the only semblence of warmth that isn't scathing.

He’s a source of comfort that Noct latches onto to try and pry himself free of these nightmares. In his right mind he would find it disturbing how safe he feels with Ignis like this, but for now he simply begs it lasts long enough to pull himself free of his mind’s torrential storm.

Eventually he finds himself swimming back to normalcy, breaching the surface of his consciousness. Forcing his eyelids open feels like a monumental task, but once he does the memories start to fade away. Dark spots clear from his vision until he can clearly see Ignis watching him worriedly.

Noct grumbles and shakes his head to clear the last of the static in his mind and finally releases the death-grip he’s got on Ignis’ jacket. As soon as he’s free Ignis is on his feet and backing away hastily as if he's been burned, distress written all over his face. Noct let’s his hand fall limp to the ground, struck by a pang of hurt at the loss.

The throbbing in his head dulls but his frustration doesn’t as he wobbles to his feet, using a hand against the wall for support.

“What the hell just happened?”

“I shouldn’t have come here.”

Noct frowns watching Ignis take another step back. Then another. He looks apprehensive; no, he looks _scared_.

“What do you mean?” Noct demands, bringing a hand up to hold the side of his head when it throbs. “What are you talking about?”

Ignis shakes his head. “I knew seeing you again… if I _kept_ seeing you again… I shouldn’t be doing this. It will only hurt us both. I need to go.”

He tries to turn but Noct leaps forward and grabs his wrist, pulling him to a halt and ignoring the wave of dizziness and the sting of bile in his throat. The space between them hurts. Watching him walk away only makes that persistent emptiness in him scream louder.

“No, no, hold on. What do you mean? Explain it to me.”

“Noct, I can’t—”

“Bullshit you can’t. You know why this keeps happening to me, so stop running!”

Ignis clicks his tongue and manages to pull his arm free. “I should have stayed away. I tried to at first, but I couldn’t… I… you—”

“You’re not making any sense!” Noct yells loud enough that Ignis flinches. He doesn’t care if anyone hears him. Everything inside him is telling him this is wrong. His heart, foolish as it is, keeps pulling him to Ignis, and he’s tired of not knowing why.

“Tell me what’s going on. What keeps happening to me?”

But Ignis is stubborn, and he puts more distance between them. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s better if you don’t.”

Noct reaches for him again desperately. Some primal urge inside him tells him to move; that he may never see Ignis again if he doesn’t. But Ignis is too fast and backs away.

“I never meant to hurt you like this.” Ignis looks nearly on the edge of tears and his voice shakes, but he doesn’t stop. “It… it’s better this way.”

He turns on his heel and is in the elevator before Noct can form the words to stop him. He knows they won’t do any good anyways. Instead he lets his outstretched hand hang in empty space, watching Ignis’ retreating back. It’s wrong, it’s all wrong but Noct doesn’t have the strength left to stop it. He didn’t get answers, and now he’s only saddled with more; and there’s this unbearable, soul-crushing _hurt_ inside him because there’s a sense of finality to Ignis’ departure this time.

All he does know, even as his knees give out and he sinks to the ground, is that the prospect of not seeing Ignis again hurts more than he can describe.

The door closes and the elevator descends.

He stays like that for a while, unmoving until Prompto and Gladio come looking for him.

It’s only then that Noct realizes he’s still crying.


	5. Chapter 5

Altissia is simply breathtaking and a welcome bit of revelry after their long journey. Noct stands out on the balcony of their room at the Leville, staring out into the bright cityscape. It’s still so lively even at night here. It reminds him of home, even if the styles of Accordo are a far cry from those of Insomnia.

It’s blissfully warm, though a cool breeze tousles his hair and brings with it the smell of fish and spices and coffee from the nearby cafés. From somewhere below he can here violins playing a lighthearted tune and accompanied by the occasional sounds of laughter and boisterous voices. Some of it is drunken laughter, accompanied by clinking glasses as people drink to their various whims deep into the night.

Despite the fact that it’s all very atmospheric and Noct should feel calmer for it, he finds he’s still restless. Every chance he gets he’s tapping idle fingers on the nearest surface or bouncing his leg. It’s the night before the Summit, after all—before Noct can hopefully, _finally_ see Luna again. Another covenant awaits him, another trial to prove his worth to the gods. His whole body vibrates with nervous energy. He doubts even he will sleep much tonight.

The road has been long but they’re finally here.

Leaning over the rail to peer down into the crowd below, his breath hitches as he catches sight of a familiar face looking up at him from the throng of people. For one electric moment wide blue eyes meet that familiar, sombre green, and Noct inhales sharply.

In an instant he’s pushing off the balcony and practically tripping over himself to get through the room. The door bangs loudly against the wall as he throws it open, and he’s gone before he can even register Prompto and Gladio’s confused calls after him. All his senses narrow down to a single point of focus: he needs to get outside.

By the time he’s down the stairs and out the front doors of the Leville he’s nearly breathless, knee throbbing from dropping heavily down the steps, and his chest tightening from the hyperactive beating of his heart. His eyes scan the crowd as they pass and he pushes further into the busy street, careless of the people he’s disrupting while he stares at all the faces around him.

So many questions run through his mind. Desperation digs the pit in his stomach even deeper.

But Ignis is no longer there. Noct spins on the spot, looking like quite the sight with the way his head whips from side to side and his eyes jump around the crowd of people frantically. Not that he cares, and it doesn’t matter anyways, because Ignis has disappeared as quickly as Noct had seen him.

He doesn’t care why Ignis is here, or even how. Something deep and carnal within him just wants to see him.

But he’s already gone, long lost in the hustle and bustle and Noct is left standing there, slumped in defeat. His heart sinks as that flame of hope inside him snuffs out. Despite being surrounded by people, despite the fact his friends are now standing in the doorway of their hotel watching him with questioning eyes, he feels alone.

It’s answers he wants, but he resides himself to the fact that he may never get them now.

More and more he’s beginning to understand what Ignis had really been saying to him back in Caem, what that look he’d given Noct just moments ago had been.

He was saying goodbye.

 

 

* * *

 

  

He awakens in Altissia.

Luna is dead.

The ring is gone.

Noct lies for a time in bed unmoving, eyes stinging with tears. He keeps a hand pressed over his mouth to muffle the way his breath hitches with each stuttered cry. Numbness keeps his body from moving, not that he wants to go anywhere. He doesn’t even see the point in getting up. Everything he’d just been through with the trial; all that fighting and power, and for what?

The room is so empty, and he revels in his solitude one minute only to hate it a moment later. He has no words to give, no willingness to listen to false words of hope, but still he wishes someone was there, if only so the room didn’t feel so empty. So he didn’t feel so lonely in the face of… everything.

He’s overwhelmingly thankful to see Prompto and Gladio alive and well when they arrive. He accepts the tight hug he receives from Prompto and the supportive hand on his shoulder from Gladio, which he grips tight in his own. Apart from telling him of her passing, neither of them mention Luna, and Noct isn’t sure if he’s thankful or not.

How many more people have to die to protect him?

Gladio picks up something from the table by the door and hands it to Noct.

“Found Umbra carrying this a while back.”

Noct takes the notebook in shaking hands, staring at the red leather while his throat constricts. Flipping open the book hastily, his fingers ghost gently across the last page with a message from Luna; a single sylleblossom pressed into the paper. His shoulders sag, fingers clenching into the sheets of the bed.

He feels hollow. He wants to fall back and sink into the bed until it devours him, but he knows it won’t. He’s overtaken by dizziness and a discomforting twisting of his insides. His friend’s words barely register in his fluttering consciousness.

When Noct turns his eyes to look out the windows of his room, thoughts lost and unfocused, he can see Altissia. What’s left of it anyways. Building are destroyed or on the verge of collapse. He can see the piles of rubble and stone, street stalls abolished and the fanciful décor of the city demolished. There’s already a few people searching through what remains. Noct catches sight of a smear of blood unearthed from a pile of slabs, and he whips his head around, shutting his eyes tightly and willing away the image of the mutilated body that accompanies it; one of the few civilians who clearly hadn’t made it out of the city.

Prompto moves to sit at the foot of the bed and Gladio in a plush chair by the door. They’re both watching him so there’s no way they don’t see him jump, but they say nothing. It’s for the best; Noct doesn’t want to talk about it.

In his mind all he can see is Luna, a knife lodged in her stomach, her pained expression. It haunts the darkness behind his eyes, and he wishes he could fall away from the world; back to a restful slumber where he wasn’t touted as a saviour, nor a king. Where he hadn’t failed.

After a few minutes of silence with Noct stewing in his own sorrow, the door to his room opens swiftly. There’s no knock announcing the intruder, but it’s someone Noct certainly isn’t expecting to see.

“Ravus.”

“Prince Noctis.” He says as a greeting. “Though I suppose you now bear the mantle of king.”

Noct flinches under the weight of his title. He wonders why Ravus is even acknowledging him with it.

“What are you doing here?”

“He helped us get you here,” Prompto explains, looking between the two of them. “If you can believe it.”

Noct furrows his brow, watching Ravus’ unreadable expression. He thinks again of Luna; he sees her face reflected in her brother’s so much that he ends up choking up and his eyes fall to the floor.

“So what? You came to say goodbye? Tell me I’m not a worthy king? Kill me? What?”

 _Tell me Luna’s death is my fault._ He wouldn’t be wrong.

But instead Ravus stands tall, regal as he should for the last prince of Tenebrae. “I came to offer you my assistance. My sister believed you would be our saviour. She died fulfilling her calling to aid you, and I… I am here to honour her.”

Considering he tried to kill them before, Noct isn’t entirely ready to accept that. His bitterness is too fresh and it burns inside him like a disease. He almost wishes Ravus had come to challenge him, simply so Noct could hit something, or scream himself hoarse. Maybe he’d feel better with a sword against his throat, watching his own life seep red between his fingers like it did for those he cared about.

 _No._ He shakes his head. No, that’s not what Luna or his father would want. But they were dead; how far had their beliefs really gotten them?

He looks to his friends, if only to ground himself in the here and now, with those he still cherishes. Gladio is watching Ravus quietly before giving Noct a steady nod. Clearly he’s mistaken Noct’s gaze as him looking for affirmation, but regardless he does trust Gladio’s intuition. Prompto simply shrugs when Noct turns his unvoiced question to him. But it’s enough for Noct to look past his own distaste and think rationally.

Ravus is part of the Imperial army; he had been part of the attack on Insomnia. Yet he was also Luna’s brother, forced to betray his home or suffer under the Empire’s heel. In spite of everything, with fresh loses weighing his heart, Noct does understand Ravus better now.

“Okay.” Noct says slowly. “How are you going to help, exactly?”

“By telling you where your ring is, and most likely where you’ll find Ardyn, and your crystal.”

Noct sits up straighter at that, more alert than ever now. He stares down at the emptiness of his palm, and the bare skin of his fingers. He knows the ring is still missing; he would sense it otherwise. It courses with Lucian magic, after all. But the idea of wearing it and of bearing it’s mighty power only to have it slowly sap away his life makes his stomach churn. His fingers clench into fists.

“What do you know about any of that?” Gladio asks. His voice is weary, and he’s tensed up like he’s waiting for one wrong move to strike.

“I’ve intimate knowledge of many of the Empire’s secrets.” Ravus shifts his weight, leaning to the side and resting one hand on the hilt of his sword. “I recall Aldercapt had the crystal moved to a Niflheim base; Zegnautus Keep. It likely still resides there, and I imagine that’s where the Chancellor shall be as well.”

“That’s deep in enemy territory.” Gladio points out as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

Ravus sighs. “I’m aware. However, I still have access to my airship, and word of my… _betrayal_ to the empire should not have reached them yet. I can get you there.”

“Well that sure is convenient.” Prompto’s tone is dry so it’s hard to tell if he’s being facetious or not.

Noct stares for a moment, taking in everything slowly as his tired mind puts the pieces together.

He’s subtly aware of the third covenant weighing on him, bringing with it a constant chill to his skin and his lungs burn as if he’s drowning. His throat is dry and cracked, desperate for water, and he silently begs Leviathan’s influence on his body fades quickly.

Then there’s the power of kings amassing inside him. Each royal arm hums like a unique song in his mind, beckoning him onwards to the source of their power; the crystal. He’s being tugged along like a fish on a hook; an ironic image to be sure, though Noct doesn’t have the strength to laugh.

“The ring,” Noct mutters after a while. “You know where it is?”

“I presume it also resides in Zegnautus.”

“Why?”

“Because that is where Ardyn took your companion. I only saw them for a moment, but I can assume he took the ring, seeing as I couldn’t find it with you or my sister.”

Noct exchanges looks of confusion with both Prompto and Gladio.

“Friend? Who?”

Ravus frowns. “He told me his name was Ignis. I allied with him for the purposes of seeing my way to the Altar.”

_Ignis._

Noct’s breathe catches in his throat and his jaw goes slack. Something violent flares to life in his chest, hurting so deeply that he’s twisting fingers into his shirt reflexively. His eyes go a little glassy as his gaze drops to the floor. There’s no way…

“Ignis was here?” Gladio says because Noct just _can’t_.

Ravus looks between them all. “I was under the impression you knew him.”

“We do, kind of.” Prompto’s brows pinch. “We met him a few times on our way here.”

Ravus’ entire expression scrunches up like he’s tasted something sour, and he doesn’t speak for a moment.

Noct doesn’t miss it. For the first time since waking up in this godforsaken room Noct wants to leap from his bed just to grab Ravus by the lapels and shake the words out of him.

“What happened? What did he say?”

“He was quite _persistent_ for a mere acquaintance.”

“What does that mean?”

“He fought his way through an army of Imperial forces to reach you. He faced Magitek armours and even Caligo himself. I would have thought he was someone close to you.”

Noct shakes his head but his thoughts continue to swim.

Ravus’ next words come slowly, obviously something he isn’t sure how to say. “Even when I… in my disparity over my sister I turned my sword on you, Prince Noctis, and even then he fought me like a man possessed.”

“What…?”

“He fought like a man adamant to protect you at all costs; even to his dying breath.”

“But he went with Ardyn?” Prompto questions. “Like, you’re sure he went willingly?”

“I only assume it was, in his mind, the lesser of two evils. I’ve no doubt Ardyn would have killed him otherwise. It’s likely he went to save you, Noctis. But I can’t be sure of his motives, nor of the outcome of his actions.”

Noct groans and falls back to the bed, sinking into the pillow. His head is pulsing and he pushes his palms into his eyes until he’s seeing stars. He conjures up Ignis’ face, but all he sees is Ignis’ look of despondence the last time Noct had seen him. Had he known somehow? Had he been planning this from the beginning? He groans loudly, nails digging red crescents into his scalp.

He feels Prompto get up from the bed and hears shuffling across carpet.

“Noct, you okay?”

How could he be? First his father, then Luna, and now…

“No,” Noct mumbles. His head hurts. His stomach turns and he’s damp with cold sweat. He feels everything and nothing all at once. “We… we need to go. Now.”

“Just like that?” Gladio’s up from his chair but Noct doesn’t hear him approach. “We should be thinking this over.”

“Time is not something you have in excess.” Ravus reminds them.

Gladio huffs. “We can’t afford to go into this half-blind! There’s too much at stake here.”

“We can’t afford to wait either.” Noct snaps from the bed. He shoots upright again and twists to drop his feet to the floor. Every part of his body throbs in protest and the speed of his movement makes his head spin, but he breathes deeply in an attempt to calm his tingling nerves.

In his mind he hears familiar thoughts of, _there’s nothing out in the world for you_ , and, _you should lie down and just wither away_. He’s done enough, this isn’t his fight anymore. It’s pointless now, and he hasn’t got the energy or resolve to see this through. Why bother when he could just give up and be done with this?

But he can’t, and he won’t. He knows better than to listen to those darker thoughts when he feels like this. He’s dealt with these feelings for years, after all. He’s fought this fight before, and even at his lowest points he’s struggled to keep his head above water.

_It’s easy to succumb to despair, but please, don’t let it consume you._

Ignis had said that before. Like he knew. Maybe, somehow, he did.

Noct’s brow furrows and his fingers curl tightly into the sheets. “If the ring and the crystal are there, and Ardyn is too, then we can end this once and for all. I’m not waiting anymore, not after… not after everything we’ve lost.”

Gladio winces; it’s just a twinge, easily missed, but it’s there. Noct knows he’s remembering his father, and in that they share a commonality. After Insomnia, and Regis, and now Luna, too many have suffered for this. He won’t let Ignis suffer the same fate, especially when Noct doesn’t understand why he’s done any of this.

“No more detours,” Noct declares with renewed vigor. “No more distractions. It’s time we finish this.”

Something still hurts; a constant aching loss sits inside him. That small part of him is still screaming at him to roll over and spite the world. Instead he rises to his feet, waiting for his muscles to stop shaking. Once they do he’s grabbing the fresh clothes folded neatly by his bedside, ignoring his still feverish state. He waves the others out hastily and they’re quick to obey under his fierce stare.

As he dresses he thinks of the ring: his birthright, his family’s legacy. Ignis has it, though somehow Noct doubts he’s taken it for himself. Ignis hadn’t struck him as power hungry or out to undermine Lucis. Rather, what Ravus has said makes Noct think perhaps he took the ring simply so Ardyn _couldn’t_.

Regardless, the fact is Ignis came to Altissia, and now he has the ring. Noct can only wonder what he’ll find at the Keep. The very thought that Ignis is alone in enemy territory with Ardyn and the ring fills Noct with an insurmountable dread, and he’s practically vibrating with anxious energy when he fires out of his room to find the other’s waiting in the lounge for him.

He recalls Ignis’ last words, and the pain his departure had left with Noct. He still doesn’t understand what has happened between them; why he has these confusing and misplaced feelings about him. But what he does know is that Ignis is in danger, and for some reason he’s gone and laid down his very life for Noct’s.

If nothing else, Noct will return the favour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay folks the plot's kicking off now so prepare yourselves


	6. Chapter 6

True to his word Ravus’ ship takes them well over the snowy mountain ranges and empty valleys of Niflheim, nearly right to the enemies’ door. They speak to each other very little during the trip, though Noct isn’t sure what he could say anyways. He and Ravus seem to have reached some kind of silent solidarity, which is something, he supposes.

They’re dropped off just outside Zegnautus Keep along the abandoned railroad tracks, littered with overturned and rusted out train cars and abandoned locomotives. Aside from the numerous daemons infesting the area, it’s deserted, no active human presence that they can see. That’s almost worse, somehow.

Under the cover of darkness they infiltrate, cutting down any defiled creature that stands in their way. Each floor feels more stressful than the last. Some are mostly long winding hallways leading to barracks, some are filled with empty cells. Many are research labs, full of various scientific apparatus, and some even have large empty tanks, the glass broken long ago.

Gladio ends up flicking through some of the notes strewn about the floor when he gets a chance. Prompto looks exceedingly uncomfortable the whole time, and while Noct notices, he doesn’t find the chance to ask, simply chocks it up to the fact they’re in daemon-infested enemy territory.

“The magiteks…” Gladio mutters, and he sounds unusually distressed enough that Noct turns to look at him.

“What about ‘em?”

He shakes his head and stands. “They’re… deamons.”

Prompto shudders as he picks up the pages Gladio had been scanning through, fingers trembling and crumbling the corners. “Not really. They were people first. People the empire infected and turned into monsters to power their machines.”

Noct can feel the blood drain from his face. Bile rises up his throat, choking him until he forces it back down.

“That means, all those troopers we’ve been killing…”

“Doesn’t matter.” Gladio says gruffly, already leaving the room behind. “Those sons of bitches may have been experimenting on their own people, but what we killed were just machines. You start worrying about ‘what-if’s’ and ‘maybes’ and you’ll find yourself somewhere you can’t come back from.”

Noct swallows thickly and nods. “R-Right. Yeah. I know, it’s just…”

“Cruel.” Prompto bites, so harshly Noct can’t recall ever hearing him sound so cold. “These guys are monsters.”

“Which is why we’re here to end all this. Right, Noct?” Gladio turns his intense gaze on Noct, freezing him in his tracks.

Noct knows what it is he wants to hear, and he has no aversion to giving it to him as they leave the labs behind and ascend to the next floor. “Yeah, this ends now. We’re going to make sure of it.”

When they find what looks to be a command centre, they find Emperor Aldercapt, or what’s left of him. His daemon form is tall and so gangly his bones stretch his leathery skin and his decaying wings droop. It’s disgusting and twisted. His voice is barely recognizable with how inhuman it is, and when he screeches black liquid foams from between his bared teeth. There’s not a shred of humanity left in him. The three cut him down with hearts split between hatred for the man who destroyed their home, and pity for the man twisted into a monster.

They climb higher.

Discovering Prompto is an MT— or rather a clone originally intended to become one— certainly isn’t something Noct is expecting to discover, and clearly Prompto hasn’t been expecting it to come out either. But it does explain why he’s been so antsy since coming here. It wouldn’t have come out at all if they hadn’t made it to the main command hall turned make-shift throne room only to find it locked.

Noct kicks at the metal doors in frustration, only to arch a brow when Prompto steps up to the control panel on the side, eyes flicking around and his tongue peeking out to wet his lips. Slowly he lifts his wrist to the pad, revealing a familiar barcode tattooed across his skin. The keypad lights up green with an affirmative beep and the doors slide open.

“So, MT’s, they have those code prints,” Prompto mutters because obviously he can feel the way Noct and Gladio are staring at him, stuck between confusion and disbelief. “Just like I do.”

Noct’s gaze moves down to Prompto’s wrist and back. It hits him all too quickly what Prompto is about to say, but he waits patiently. “You don’t say. I never really noticed.”

“Yeah, so… as it turns out, I’m one of them.” Prompto says quietly, mouth twisting awkwardly. Absently he rubs at the concealed tattoo on his skin. He keeps his eyes downcast to avoid what he’s probably expecting to be scrutinizing faces of betrayal.

He’s not going to get them, though; certainly not from Noct, and by the look on Gladio’s face he isn’t particularly upset either. 

“So? What’s the big deal?” Noct drawls, so casually he could very well be talking about the weather for all they knew.

He tries hard not to laugh when Prompto’s head snaps up, eyes wide and his lips parting without so much as a word passing between them.

“You’re still you, right? You’re still my best friend, and still a Crown City citizen. Nothing’s going to change that.”

Gladio slaps a hand on Prompto’s back so hard he stumbles forward and his face lights up red at the utter lack of reaction to his biggest secret. “Come on, if that’s the worst thing you’ve got hidden away, then you’re fine. Better than fine.”

It’s a visible weight off of Prompto’s shoulders, and he breathes out like he’s been holding it in for a while. His eyes wrinkle at the sides as his face melts into an appreciative smile.

“You guys… really, you’re the best friends a guy could ask for.”

Gladio snorts. “Sap.”

Prompto slaps his arm half-heartedly, sniffling quickly before straightening up to compose himself. “Shut up.”

In all honestly, it _does_ raise some questions Noct is eager to have answered, but he knows now isn’t the time. Not that it really changes anything in his mind anyways.

All in all, aside from that heartfelt confession, the command room ends up yielding nothing important but a bunch of lifeless machines and an empty throne.

So they make their way up again.  The top of the tower is where Ravus had said they were likely to find the crystal, as he recalled the emperor having a large containment structure built and the floor guarded heavily. It’s deserted now of course.

But upon arriving, Noct practically sprints down the catwalk overlooking the long fall into darkness below only to find an empty chamber. His steps echo to a halt as the walkway abruptly ends, the metal torn and bent like it has been snapped clean in half.

“Something serious went down here.” Gladio points to the scorch marks and sharp indents marring the metal tiles all around the room and up along the curves of the vaulted ceiling. Powerful weapon strikes, at a guess, and likely some kind of magic.

There are a number of thick chains hanging down from the ceiling, the thick metal warped as if they've have been snapped in two by the weight of whatever they once held. Something big was here. But it’s not now, and instinctively Noct peers down into the darkness far below them.

“Think whatever happened, it’s down there now?” Prompto asks from beside him, keeping his distance from the edge.

“Worth a shot.”

Noct can feel the pull of the crystal. It’s warm and familiar and powerful. He knows it’s here; they just need to find it.

Back in the elevator and on their way down, Noct worries more about the fact they haven’t made any kind of contact with Ardyn, nor have they found the ring, or Ignis. Each passing minute makes him more anxious. It feels as though everything is coming to a head.

Something calls to him from deep inside, even over the demands of the crystal’s power.

 _Find Ignis_ , it nags constantly in the back of his mind.

When the elevator comes to stop, Noct hurries out, not fully prepared for the disaster they find. It’s littered with huge chunks of concrete and metal and rebar, all clearly having cascaded down from above. Much of it is scarred by burns and deep gashes of weapons. The air is chilled enough Noct can almost see his breathe, and it’s musty and full of settling dust. Noct swears he can smell ozone and smoldering embers; it reminds him of his own magic.

The three of them step carefully through the debris, too on edge to speak.

The area’s dim, but they find the light becoming brighter and more intense as they go, until finally Noct finds their quarry and his breath is stolen from him. There, the crystal shines brightly within the confines of a metal dome, tendrils of blue and white light pouring out from it as fluid as water. He hears it whisper to him like a tantalizing song calling him to its ancient power.

But Noct freezes before he can follow its beckoning call.

Ardyn is there, standing just ahead with his back turned to them. His whole body is slumped and he stumbles forward awkwardly. He doesn’t even seem to notice them, and though Noct can’t hear him clearly he can tell Ardyn is speaking to whoever he’s reaching out to before him. A shadowy miasma pours out from all over his body, and then he pitches forward into a fall.

His body fades in a cloud of purple and black haze, and it’s then that Noct sees the figure lying on the ground; the person Ardyn had been speaking to.

His heart leaps to his throat and he runs.

“Ignis!”

In an instant he brings his sword to hand and warps, propelling himself forward to close the distance so fast he barely has time to register his own panic.

He appears at Ignis’ side and collapses to his knees, stone biting into his skin though he hardly notices. His eyes fall to the burns all across Ignis’ body, turning his skin crisp and ashen and peeling from all the cracks in his flesh.  Noct winces with sympathy at how utterly painful it looks. The scarring is everywhere; over his face and eyes, down his neck and arms, over whatever visible skin Noct can see. Ignis’ body is limp and wracked with tremors, but he’s clearly conscious still because he grits his teeth and slowly lolls his head to the side.

“Noct,” Ignis strains to speak, and he says it like a question—like he can’t believe Noct is even here.

Gladio and Prompto skid to a halt behind them but Noct barely registers them. He meets Ignis’ eyes, full of pain and fury and fresh tears, and they're dulled, that brilliant green faded to a cloudy haze. He grits his teeth and tears his gaze away to glare at the ground. His fingers curl into fists.

“I’m here, Ignis.” He murmurs, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“How…?”

“Ravus,” Prompto mutters, but his fists are clenched and he’s turned away. “He told us you were in Altissia.”

Ignis says nothing to that. Instead his hand slides slowly across the ground, finger flexing as if searching for something. Noct takes it and clasps it firmly between his own without a thought, mindful of the way Ignis winces at the contact with his charred skin.

“Noct, I tried. I... I did it.”

Noct shakes his head, tears blurring his vision. “What did you do Ignis? What happened?”

Ignis’ mouth quirks like he wants to smile and Noct almost screams in frustration.

_Why do you look so happy? How can you look so pleased when you’re dying like this?_

“I found… a way…” Ignis tries to squeeze his fingers, but the energy just isn’t there. “The ring… I stopped him.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“To save… you…”

Noct inhales sharply and leans down, pressing their joined hands to his forehead. “Save me? From what? Ignis, please, what’s going on?”

“I gave my life… for this chance… this power.” Ignis’ other hand moves from where it rested on his stomach, clasping as tightly as he can manage. Noct moves to carefully help uncurl slender fingers until a small weight hits his palm, and he gasps.

Pulling back Noct slowly opens his hand to see the ring of the lucii, dark against his pale skin. Only now does Noct understand the implications of what Ignis is saying. He swallows thickly and tries to force himself to breath.

“You wore it.”

“You died once…” Ignis says cryptically and it makes Noct shudder. “I …won’t let you go…  not again.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Gladio’s voice cracks.

Noct clenches the ring in his fist and slides forward on his knees. With as much care as he can he brings Ignis to sit up with a supporting arm around his back. Ignis feels too hot, and his whole body trembles in Noct’s arms. He handles him like glass, because he looks so brittle Noct fears one wrong move could turn in to ash.

Ignis doesn’t quite meet Noct’s gaze when he says, “I only wish… I could see you now. One last time.”

Of course; the scars and the hazy glaze over his eyes. His gaze is unfocused, staring into nothing just over Noct's shoulder.  A choked whine slips past Noct's lips and he squeezes his eyes shut as his head bows. It's impossible to hide the way his voice cracks when he speaks.

“Ignis, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Ignis leans over until his head bumps against Noct’s cheek. “I made a choice.”

“What choice? Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

A pitiful attempt at shaking his head makes Ignis’ hair tickle Noct’s skin. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“I know you, don’t I?” Noct says, because at this point he can believe nothing else.

His heart screams at him every waking moment that he’s missing something, and he’s suspected for a long time that Ignis is that something. He ignores the way his head starts to pound with each word, trying to stave off that same splitting migraine that force him away from his own inner thoughts. From things he should know but doesn't.

“Perhaps,” Ignis’ voice is solemn.

“Then why won’t you tell me anything? Why are you doing this for me?”

“I gave myself for this…” Ignis says in lieu of an answer. “And now… you can fight… and live… but I… it’s alright. I would have you alive and well even if… if I cannot stand with you.”

“No.”

Noct moves until Ignis is resting between his parted knees with his back leaned snuggly against Noct’s chest. Reaching around the solid body in his arms he holds the ring before him, rolling it slowly between his thumb and forefinger. He used to think of it with disdain and fear for all the pain it had caused his father, and knew it would one day cause him. It was a burden of power and expectation, one so many had suffered over for too long. But it’s different now. He looks at it now, so tiny and unassuming, and he sees power and opportunity. He sees hope.

Though Ignis can't see, it's clear he understands what Noct is doing, and his body tenses, head falling back against Noct's shoulder.

Eyes flickering between the crystal and the ring, Noct takes a deep breathe before he slips it on his finger in one swift motion.

Prompto gasps behind him. “Whoa, Noct.”

Ignis whispers his name despairingly too; a warm puff of air close in his ear.  Noct’s arm falls to wrap loosely around Ignis’ waist and hold him securely to his body. Then Noct raises his other hand, the one bearing the ring, towards the crystal. An electric tingling dances along his veins, and his body grows warmer. Even after only a moment he can feel the ring pulling something from his core, weakening his already exhausted body. 

“It’s my power.”

His arms shake but he persists, hugging Ignis to him in both comfort and reassurance. Ignis’ hands creep up painfully slow until his fingers are clinging to Noct’s forearm with what strength they can muster. Without Ignis’ gloves Noct can feel the drag of ragged burned skin against his own.

He stares at the crystal with eyes hardened by determination, like he’s asking it to challenge him now. He wants, no, _demands_ this power.

“What kind of saviour am I, if I can’t protect the ones I love?”

He draws something deep from the crystal. His blood warms and his body alights; he’s pushing against a wall, forcing through until it shatters and he can grasp the wisps of raw energy he finds there. He can do anything with it, he knows. It’s a power there to be moulded and shaped to his needs. To attack and defend and build and heal and protect; it’s his, and his alone.

The crystal glows brighter as more light spills out.

It washes over both him and Ignis, sparks of blue and white shimmering through the dark in a way that reminds Noct of sylleblossom petals. Ignis flinches and groans in his arms as his eyes screw shut. His grip tighten around Noct’s arm until it turns white, nails leaving angry red marks.

“Please,” Noct begs the crystal. “Help me protect my friends!”

There’s a warmth surround him and Ignis now, and he thinks for a moment he hears the softest of melodies carried through the air like an inconsistent resonance. Noct watches with fascination as the scarring over Ignis’ body begins to fade. The ravaged skin heals until the only thing that remains is the subtlest of rugged marks around his left eye. Noct almost cries with relief and lets his arm drop to hug Ignis as the last of the horrid marks fade, leaving only the barest of phantom scars as a reminder to what he's done.

All Noct feels is prickling heat along his skin like waves of fire licking across his nerves, but it leaves as quickly as it comes. What he is more aware of is the way his body becomes heavier, drained of strength and a numbness creeping up from his fingers. Spots float in his vision for a time and he lists to the side from dizziness, but Ignis' solid weight in his arms keeps him from falling. The ring sears its first impressions of ancient magic into his skin.

Not that he cares at all, because finally with a groan Ignis opens his eyes slowly. Vibrant green finds Noct’s gaze, shimmering in the light and his jaw goes slack, overwhelmed by the sight.

“Noct.”

“I’m not letting you go that easily.” He smiles as best he can, though it's weak. "Beside, you've got a lot of explaining to do."

The waves of light around them recede and Noct takes a moment simply to rest. His body sags under the weight of the power he’s called to him, and his cheek rests in the softness of Ignis’ hair when he can’t even find the strength to lift his head anymore. His heavy breathing is the only sound he can hear for a time. When Ignis shifts in his arms he squeezes his fingers tighter purely on instinct and the movement stops, Ignis sagging back with a tired sigh until he's practically melting into Noct's chest, still gripping tight to his arm.

All that power, and it’s his. He’s done it, he’s saved someone. 

But it’s not enough, and truthfully he does not have the time to bask in it.

From the crystal that beckoning song echoes in his mind, and Noct knows it’s not over. There’s so much more he needs to do; power he needs to cultivate for his own if he wishes to bear the full brunt of the powers afforded him.

With a nod over his shoulder Gladio kneels down beside them. It's a strange feeling, prying away his grip from around Ignis but he manages it slowly, manoeuvring Ignis’ weight over to lean against Gladio gently before rising to his feet. His muscles scream from the exertion, quaking under his own weight.

He looks to his friends, eyes full of sincerity.

“You guys take care, okay? You better be there when I get back.”

Gladio looks conflicted but he nods silently, and Prompto wipes at his eyes and puts on the best smile he can manage.

“You bet.”

Neither bothers to ask where he’s going, not that Noct could really explain it himself. Satisfied, he turns again only for Ignis’ hand to reach out and grab him.

“Noct, don’t…” His eyes are desperate, pleading. “Not again, please.”

 _Again._  There it is again, that painful ache of not knowing. 

But even so he must go, and he knows it. The ring pulls him to the crystal, stronger and stronger, like an addiction Noct can no longer shake now that it's so close. Its soothing warmth and bitter intensity shines at his back, and he can feel it like a reverberation through his entire body.

“When I come back,” he says, slipping his hand over Ignis’ and squeezing reassuringly. “You’re going to tell me everything. Promise?”

Ignis winces. “It’s not that simple, Noct. You don’t understand, _please_ —”

“Promise me.” He can’t stay, he knows. He wants to know everything, but he’s willing to wait. Because if nothing else, he’s also making _Ignis_ promise to be there when he returns.

He’s not sure why, but he gets the impression that he’ll be gone a long time.

Ignis opens his mouth but no more words slip past his trembling lips. His shoulders slump, hand slipping out from underneath Noct's and falling limply to his side like all the life has gone out of him. He nods resolutely.

Noct steels himself and returns it. With a renewed vigor he turns to face the light, feeling their stares on his back as he approaches his destiny. It's hard, leaving them behind. He doesn't know what will happen—to him or to them—but he has to believe it will be okay. He has to.

He walks into the crystal, poised and head held high until the light envelopes him and pulls him into reflection.


	7. Chapter 7

10 years.

He knows when he awakens on Angelgard that he feels different. He had though it would be a long time, but not this long, and he's not even sure how he knows right away. The idea that he’s missed so much time is upsetting. In a sense, this world he's awakend to, dark and murky and sick, is no longer his world. It’s not the one he knew, anyways. His friends must have moved on without him, and he’s not sure he’s ready to see how much. He can’t fathom what he’s missed, and he’s almost scared to see how everything has changed without him.

Though he’s changed, too. As he stretches and moves, dragging long unfamilair fingers over his body, he feels it. He's older, his body has grown up without him being fully aware of it. His hair is longer and he feels scruff along his jaw line. His limbs are longer and his body more filled out. It’s strange because he almost feels like someone else, like he’s in someone else’ skin, pulled taught over a too-big frame. 

Inside the crystal he'd lost all sense of his body. In a way he became raw energy, cultivating the crystal's light from all around him. He'd seen time and space, the universe as a whole, and it felt like such a tiny, inconsiquential thing. Through the eyes of the gods he'd seen everything that had happened, and what he was expected to do. Sometimes he would experience the phantoms of his life, of his friends and family, and sometimes it was other he didn't know. After a while he realized he was seeing the faces in the lives of former kings and queens. 

Inside him, he feels power—power he'd collected, molded and practiced in a void where time means nothing. It swarms inside him, pumping through his veins like motlen metal, tingling in his subconscious. Those long years spent absorbing and harnessing the crystal’s magic have garnered him an unfathomable force with which to face this scarred world.

There is no sun, there isn’t even the moon or stars. A black layer of cloud hangs perpetually in the sky, casting the world into an unending night. Everything is a colourless, bleak mess. He knows what needs to happen now, even as he stumbles his way down the rocky barren island sands towards the ship awaiting him.

He needs to return home to Insomnia, and stop Ardyn once and for all. He needs to bring back the light.

It’s dismal finding Galdin a ghost of its former glory when he pulls into the docks of the quay. Everything is decayed and ravaged, all rotting wood and dilapidated seats, broken glass and ceramic planters craking under foot as Noct makes his way through the ghostly remains. He can almost recall the bright sunlight beaming through the open aired bar, and the soothing music mixed with the chatter of patrons. That awful massage Prompto had convined him to try, the picky cat he'd befriended just down the pier.

There's naught but daemons prowling around the remains of the restaurant now. Likely it hasn’t seen any human tenants in years. 

With the ring and his armiger he makes short work of the creatures that oppose him as he escapes the seaside and begins the long trek towards Hammerhead. That was where he’d been told they would meet in the letter Umbra had brought him upon waking.

Finding Talcott driving along the road must be some sort of divine intervention, but one Noct is grateful for, because he’s exhausted himself thoroughly just getting here. By the time he limps into the passenger’s seat of his truck, his body feels like it weights a ton.

“You’re Majesty,” Are Talcott’s first words to him, his face older, voice deeper. Noct wouldn't have even know it was him if he hadn't stuttered to re-introduce himself.

He’s an adult now, and it’s so startling that Noct can’t really look at him for a while. The man driving him home is a stranger. He only remembers a child, not… this. Even as he gives Noct the short and sweet summation of what’s happened while he’s been away, he finds it’s like listening to a narrator reading him a story.

Everything is new—no, it’s _different_. This is reality, just one Noct hasn’t been a part of for a decade.

It's weird, having that part confirmed out loud. Despite sensing the passage of time upon awakening, hearing Talcott so casually metion that it's been ten whole years since he left is eye-opening. It makes it real, and it makes Noct's heart sink. He'd hoped he'd been wrong, somehow.

It’s odd too, seeing these familiar sights turned into would-be outposts. Pulling into Hammerhead, Noct can see it's more or less the same within, but now a huge wall of metal fence and wooden barricades encircles it. There's a few hunters stalking around all unfamiliar, and crates of supplies stacked and likely ready for transport to who knows where. The diner's been repurposed as a supply depot and rest area by the looks of it. God, he's got a lot of catching up to do. If only he had the time.

Once Talcott brings his truck to a stop withing the safety of the outpost lights, Noct hops out slowly. Instantly a tight grin tugs at his lip when he finds Prompto and Gladio waiting for him. Just as he expects, it’s overwhelming to see the years that have passed on their faces. They’re experienced and hardened, almost strangers compared to all those years ago. For Noct it had felt like moments, for the world it may as well have been an eternity.

God, he’s missed so much. He half expects them to be angry with him for being gone so long, but instead they look happy, fond, even excited. They're relieved to see him again, and that makes Noct's heart feel a little less heavy.

“Noct, it’s really you.” Prompto says, nearly breathless as they approach.

"Welcome back," Gladio thumps a hand on his back. “You took your sweet time.”

_Well, well, you kept us waiting._

Noct’s head turns to the empty space before him as those words echo distantly in his mind, bring with them a twinge of pain in his head and through his chest.

“Not like I wanted to,” he mumbles absently, a strange feeling of longing settling deep inside him.

That empty ache is back, but it had never fully left, even in the crystal. It makes him think of Ignis, and Noct is all too aware of the fact that he’s not _here_.

But for now that doesn’t matter.

“We’ve got work to do.” He says.

Prompto sighs. “Just got back, and already all work and no play. You sure you’re the same Noct as before?”

Noct flicks his arm hard and Prompto flinches back with a snort.

“Alright children,” Gladio sighs. “Lead the way, Noct.”

The three of them head into Takka’s diner, sitting down to a small meal of rations and to prepare for their next move. Regardless of its quality, Noct is happy just to have some kind of real food after so long.

In the crystal he didn’t really sleep, and he didn’t eat either. While the magic of the crystal kept him alive and well, he still came to miss the world, and those small pleasures associated simply with _living_. There’s nothing tangible to keep his sense sharp, so they go dormant, weakened and unused. So much so that the food he eats tastes foreign, though he’s sure he’s eaten it before. To be exposed to bright lights is nearly blinding, and the bright red colour of the booths in an otherwise dull diner is nostalgic. Despite the lack of sun it’s pretty warm, but Noct almost burns in the heat, and it itches when he sweats. The crystal space wasn't cold per se, it just... _was_. 

He’s been away so long he’s forgotten much of the real world, and as a result he’s exposed, sensitive. He’s missed _people_ too; and he’d missed his own voice. Upon hearing how he sounds now—deeper and more gruff with age—he can’t quite recall what he sounded like before.

Shaking his head, he drags his thoughts back to the present, leaving his apprehension behind. Despite how surreal his existence feels in this world, he needs to accept it, because it is real, and it’s still his home.

The plan isn’t overly complicated. They’re—in the simplest of terms—storming the keep. They’re going to fight their way back into the Crown City and take back what’s theirs. Needless to say their rest period doesn’t last long. Talcott see’s them off as they depart, donned in the Kingsglaive garbs they’d been fitted for so many years ago.

They make camp just outside the checkpoint leading to Insomnia, and Noct is desperate for a real, proper sleep to combat his fatigue. He’s not sure if he even can sleep now. Some part of him is scared he’ll wake up back in the crystal, or maybe not at all. Or worse, his body may have forgotten what it feels like to sleep out in the real world, as dumb as it sounds in his head.  

But he doesn’t sleep yet. Instead he sits his friends down around the fire, his hands fidgeting in his lap and his leg bouncing mindlessly as he finally asks.

“So… ten years is a long time. What’s happened while I was gone?”

Gladio leans back in his seat and stares up into the pitch black sky. “Sometimes it feels like everything and nothing at all.”

“We’ve been helping out the outposts, mostly.” Prompto explains. “I hang around Hammerhead a lot, too. Plus, I help out Cor whenever he comes around, usually with what’s left of the Kingsglaive.”

Noct’s brows raise. “The Kingsglaive is still active?”

Gladio nods. “As many as we can get. All loyal to Lucis and awaiting the return of their king. So I hope you’re ready for a royal reception.”

“Maybe not quite yet,” Noct chuckles. It’s good to hear the two of them have been moving on at least. Plus knowing his people are still thriving out here is a load off his mind.

“So, does you hanging around Hammerhead have anything to do with our resident mechanic?”

Prompto scoffs a little too dramatically, but the fire highlights the way his cheeks redden. “I’ll have you know it’s all professional. Plus a guy doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Oh, really?” Noct arches a brow and smirks.

“It was a long time ago, okay? Besides, things change… stuff happens, you know?”

The way Prompto’s gaze flicks up across the fire and back down catches Noct’s attention. “Change how? Something you’re not telling me?”

“Anyways,” Gladio interrupts instead, shooting Prompto a look that confuses Noct to no end. “Point is we’ve been busy. I’ve been helping the hunters a lot too, so if nothing else there’s a bunch of guys looking forward to you ending the daemon problem.”

Noct winces. He’s mostly avoided the questions about the long night up until now, afraid of what he might hear. But he needs to know.

“Right. How… how bad has it been?”

Prompto hums. “Well, we lost the light entirely about five years ago. It was a lot slower than anyone expected, for sure. We all thought once you were gone it would just sort of… go dark. Either way, we’ve still got a whole bunch of kids who have never seen a sunset. Like, the _sun_. You know how sad that is?”

“Plus, the daemon population didn’t spike as much as we thought it would.” Gladio adds. “Definitely still a threat and the hunter’s have been out in full force securing settlements and hold outs, escorting supply conveys and all that, but it’s better than we anticipated.”

Noct frowns. From what he now knows about Ardyn and his connection to the darkness and daemons, he’s surprised it hasn’t been worse. With all the years Ardyn’s had to amass his power and hatred, Noct had feared he would have returned to a corpse-laden wasteland.

“What about the scourge?”

Gladio shakes his head. “There are cases of it here and there, but it’s still pretty rare. That was the biggest worry, what with the oracle being gone.”

Luna’s smiling face comes to mind, and Noct’s gaze drop to the ground. He’s had time to come to terms with what happened, but he still feels the weight of those he’s lost. As his eyes roam to the glowing runes of the haven he wonders about them. Perhaps Luna’s light still remains in some capacity; her duty never truly fulfilled until Noct banishes the darkness.

But without her and the increase in daemons, the scourge should have been a major concern. To hear it hasn’t been sends a wave of relief through him. To be twisted and tortured into a mindless monster only to be cut down is a fate worse than death.

“It’s like… he’s not as strong as before.” Noct mutters, sitting forward to lean on his knees.

“Who, Ardyn?”

Noct looks up with some confusion at Prompto’s question.

“You know about that?”

“Yeah, yeah, we learned some things over the last few years.” Prompto bites his lip. “Ignis, he, uh… we ran into him a few times. Said he’d been searching all the old tombs and ruins across Eos, putting together the old history. He managed to piece together all this stuff about Ardyn, and he filled us in last time we saw him.”

Noct inhales sharply. At the mere mention of his name his heart pounds harder, and he struggles to control the anxiousness bubbling up inside him.  

“It’s funny,” Gladio says, and Noct is grateful because he isn’t sure he can speak properly right now. “You told us you thought Ignis was familiar once.”

He remembers it. At Caem, after Ignis had left and the two of them had found Noct up on the outlook, shaken to the core and torn between frustration and hurt, he’d mentioned it to them.

“He helped us out on a few hunts over the years, even stuck around when we were all in Lestallum for a while. And after all that, well... I didn’t think too much about what you said back then, but I sort of get what you mean now.”

“Yeah, same.”  Prompto nods. “I don’t know what it was, but it felt like he should have been here, you know? Like a part of the group, or something. I don't know, it's weird. My head hurts just thinking about it.”

Well, now Noct doesn’t feel so crazy, at least. If Prompto and Gladio feel it too, maybe there is something to this.

He doesn’t push at his memories this time, though. He knows he’ll find nothing, and he could do without the headache right now.

“I don’t suppose you guys know where he is?”

Gladio sighs. “I sent him a message after Talcott called telling him you were back.”

“And?”

“He just said, ‘I know’, and I haven’t heard anything from him since.”

That’s disconcerting. Noct clicks his tongue and adds that to the list of mysteries he needs to confront Ignis about. It’s a steadily growing list.

He wonders if Ignis knows about Noct’s fate, too. Inside the crystal, Bahamut’s intimidating visage and invasive voice had acted as a constant reminder that the gods expected Noct to give his life to bring the dawn.

But he’d expected worse odds. Ardyn is a being of pure darkness collected over centuries of solitude and hatred born from a resentment towards the gods. It’s something Noct can kind of understand now, though he would never for a moment think to justify nor excuse what the man has done.

But if Ardyn’s grip on the scourge and the daemons is waning, maybe Noct can end this without forfeiting his life. It’s hard to imagine; the gods have made it clear that the crystal’s power would consume him. But something in him whispers that there’s another way, one the god’s had not anticipated.

It’s why, despite everything, he holds off on mentioning his fate to his friends, and he's glad that it seems Ignis hasn't mentioned it either, since Noct has a suspicion he knows about the prophecy too.

When Bahamut had told him he was destined to die, Noct had grieved; for himself, and for those he would leave behind. He dreaded having to tell them, having to fight them to let him go. He tells himself he’s ready, that he accepts his fate and has made his peace, and for the most part he has. But is it so wrong that he’s still scared? Surely no man walks to their death without fear, no matter what they may say otherwise.

But he’d felt something change when he’d awoken. This world was not the one the gods had ordained. Where Noct should feel disdain and fear, instead he feels a shred of hope. Where he sees himself torn apart by the crystal, he also sees a future full of light he gets face. A life that can be, though it shouldn’t be.

_Trust in those around you._

Ignis’ words echo in his mind and he looks to his friends. They’ll stand by him, he knows, regardless of what happens. In his heart he feels Luna and his father too; he knows they are with him to the end.

He wants to reach for the chance at a future where he can live and be free.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Insomnia is a disaster, which isn’t surprising, but it’s the first time Noct has set foot in it since its fall. He’s struck with nostalgia as they pass places they once knew; his old work place, the arcade he and Prompto used to frequent, a popular bookstore, a flower shop. Destroyed and abandoned now, decrepit shells full of nothing but despair and tragedy. Haunted by the lives lost in the streets, echoing screams captured within the skeletal remains of the city.

The only inhabitants now are daemons, but the three of them are prepared, and have had time to hone their skills. They cut them down with relative ease, felling their numbers one by one as they make their way through familiar streets. Noct is glad that they fall into their usual fighting patterns so easily. It makes it a little easier to forget he’s been gone ten years; that his friends had moved on without him.

When they meet greater resistance, Noct calls for greater power. It’s his first summon of the gods in so many years but he bears the weight of the covenant with ease now after having cultivated the crystal’s power. As he calls upon the gods to strike down their foes with swift fury, his eyes burn a bright red and his body tingles with the magic surging through him. He feels near invincible as the gods come to his aid. They clear a path, and reaffirm their power is Noct’s to command to fight back the darkness.

In the wake of such a mighty shows of force, Insomnia goes quiet, almost eerily so. Even Prompto and Gladio don’t talk much but for the occasional comment. It’s a bit of solemn conversation, and Noct wishes he could say more to them, to ask about their lives, or spend a day or two just hanging out doing absolutely nothing like they used to. But there’s no more time.

So instead he focuses ahead. There will be time, a part of him hopes. Maybe.

“It’s been a long road,” Noct stares up at the spires of the Citadel reaching up into the night sky. The entire building looms over them, an imposing reminder of what's to come. “But we’ve finally made it.”

“We’re home.” Prompto says beside him.

The three of them face the stairs leading up as a gentle rain begins to fall. The lights of the city are lit, no doubt Ardyn’s doing. It’s no surprising that he knows they’re coming.

Noct takes a step, ready to ascend when he feels a cold chill run down his spine and he’s frozen to the spot.

“Heed me, oh king of kings.”

Gentiana’s voice comes to him softly from everywhere around him. The winter chill in the air burns his skin and tinges it red. Ice crystals form in his hair and lines his clothes. Beside him Prompto and Gladio have stopped too, hands rubbing at their arms and breathe coming out in visible puffs.

When Noct looks back up to the stairs Gentiana stands there poised and picturesque. She descends the steps smoothly and silently until she stands just above him, keeping herself straight-backed and her hands clasped before her. Everything about her from her clothes to her skin to here unreadable expression is as flawless and serene as ever. It’s too perfect for a human, but fitting for a messenger.

When she speaks again to Noct’s surprise it’s in the tongue of the Astrals.

“When the time is right, I have been tasked to give unto you these blessings.”

A flash of bright light illuminates the entire courtyard until Noct is blinking away spots in his vision. When it fades and he can see clearly again, his breath is stolen away by the cold.

Where Gentiana once stood now floats the ethereal form of Shiva herself, skin a soft pale blue while unearthly raiment and adornments hang from her body. An icy mist settles all around them, flowing out from her form as she hovers just above the ground, and he shivers uncontrollably as he stares in awe. She nods her head to him, her hair swaying unnaturally around her, and there’s the traces of smile gracing her lips. She bears before her a familiar trident, glowing golden in her hands.

“The oracle’s power goes with you.” Her words echo like a testament to her power.

Noct’s eyes lock on the trident as it floats to his outstretched hands, glowing with a light he knows could only be the oracle’s. As his fingers brush the haft it shatters into shimmering crystal fragments and sinks into his skin, and he can feel it slipping into his armiger like the pieces of a puzzle, filling the space with its warmth, as if purifying his own damaged heart. He claps a hand to his chest and smiles.

“Luna.. thank you.”

“And to you, dawn-bringer, goes the blessing of the Glacian.”

She raises a hand, the backs of her icy fingers caressing his cheek gently and his body is wracked with violent shivers. She’s so cold that it burns his skin and he flinches back, though she only smiles as if amused. He can feel her covenant falling into place inside him. Hers is a bitter cold that seeps to his bones, and his limbs tingle with numbness that comes in waves. As the new power settles within him, he lifts his head to face the goddess before him.

All at once his gut feels punched, and a searing heat explodes through him. He reels back, body going from a deathly cold to an unbearable heat that leaves him sweating and sucking in dry air. The snow and icy thinly coating his body melts off him in an instant, steam sizzling from his skin, yet he does not burn. If not for Gladio’s hand catching him from behind he would have fallen to his knees.

“Noct! You okay?”

“Yeah,” he wheezes, fingers digging into his stomach. He can swear he hears a vicious roaring in his head; carnal and base.

“The Pyreburner’s flame is not easily given,” Shiva says calmly and Noct struggles to right himself and look at her. “There is one who has fought the dark back, fought to change destiny itself, and in so doing prevented the scourge from its corrupting touch. Ifrit gives his boon not out of appreciation, but out of hatred for the long dark. Do not forsake this blessing, chosen.”

Noct winces as the heat wraps around his heart and sinks into him, and all at once the pain ceases. It’s power, angry and violent. Bitter but still his to command now.

“Go now,” she says before Noct has the wherewithal to speak. “Banish the darkness. Take the path laid before you, dawn-bringer.”

Noct gets his feet back under himself and stands tall. He faces Shiva only for her to nod, her expression passive once more. The cold dissipates around them as she rises upwards into the darkness, disappearing in wisps of snow and haze with the wind. Noct stares into nothing for a moment as he brushes the ice from himself.

“Wow,” Gladio whistles from beside him. “They really know how to make an entrance at the eleventh hour, huh?”

Prompto’s chuckles weakly. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Noct says nothing, too focused on the new sensations whirling inside him. He feels nearly whole; his armiger almost complete and the might of the gods at his command. His birthright. The strength to surpass even the astrals themselves sleeps inside him, and all he needs now is the crystal.

He ascends the steps towards the Citadel, his friends close behind.

At the top he’s met by another— much more corporeal than a god.

Ravus turns to face them standing regal and proud. In his hands, laid out for Noct and no other, is a sword; his father’s sword. He had wondered and worried for so long about what became of it, and he knows there’s a story to how it came to Ravus, but he doesn’t ask.

Noct expects him to speak but Ravus only bows his head in earnest and presents the blade to him. Noct slips his fingers around the hilt and lets the weight fall into his hand. The final piece. He brandishes it high for a moment and he thinks of his father. This sword was his, and now it has come to Noct. As has the ring, and their kingdom. It’s his turn to lead, his people he fights to save, and his home he’s come to reclaim.

His lips quirk upwards slightly as he presses his forehead to the tempered steel, eyes stinging with tears.

“Dad, thank you. I’ll make you proud, I promise.”

The sword shimmers and slips into his armiger, and it’s done. He feels them all harmonize within him, a faint thrumming sounding in the back of his mind. The glaives of the old kings resonate together like a symbol of his power and of the end to come. They are the symbol of a king.

Ravus steps aside, head still bowed as his hand comes up to rest over his heart. Noct returns the salute sincerely and offers a bow of his own. Ravus is a prince as well, after all; the last of Tenebrae, and the light of his own people.

The three of them pass and approach the doors leading into the Citadel. Noct stops a moment, aware of Prompto and Gladio waiting behind him. When he turns a bit to look over his shoulder, he pretends not to notice the way their hands have slid together, though his lips quirk up at the sight.

“You guys ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“We’re with you, Noct.”

_Walk tall, my son._

His father’s words from so long ago. His last words. He thinks now he finally understands. He is king, and he cannot stand idle and negligent. He must push forwards, never stopping and never looking back.

“Okay then.” Noct rolls his shoulders back and straightens, head held high and his eyes fixed ahead. “Today we stand tall, together.”

As he pushes the grand doors open, the emptiness in his heart cries out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does this chapter feel rushed? I feel like I dumped a lot out in a short amount of time because I was so impatient and wanted to get to what's coming up I may have really sped through this part whoops


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter because there was no good place to split it
> 
> It's the beginning of the end

Noct isn’t sure what he’s expecting to see upon entering the throne room. He pushes the massive doors to the open and the great hall stretches on before him, familiar even through all the carnage and debris. The marbled stonework is worn and cracked all along the pillars and floors, and a chunk of the wall has been blown inwards, spilling rubble down into the room and letting in the dim lights from outside. The carpet that once lined the hall from one side to the other is tattered and frayed, discoloured from years of neglect.

Bodies hang limp and mutilated from the ceiling, wrapped in chains. They’re illusions, ones he knows well; his father and Luna being two of them, and he thinks he may be sick at the sight of them strung up like some sick trophy display just for him. It's disturbing, and Noct cringes against the morbid sight, instead choosing to focus on the crystal suspended just above the throne, spilling light out all around it.

He freezes in his tracks when his eyes fall to the steps of the dais leading up towards the throne.

Ardyn is kneeling down on the floor, back hunched and a sinister grin twisting his face. That same shadowy miasma runs off him, black blood oozing from his mouth and his dark eyes. His skin is discoloured, sickly pale and tinged purple, looking every bit like a walking corpse. Pinned to the ground underneath him by a tight grip on his throat is Ignis, older but still very much recognizable.

Noct's tongue turns to lead in his mouth and he can’t so much as speak. Magic tingles along his nerves, his heart pounding faster. There’s power surging through him, pulling at the armiger as he prepares to move.

“So,” Ardyn drawls. “You’ve finally made it.”

His fingers squeeze and Ignis lets out a strangled cry, his hands flying up to claw at the offending hand in vain.

Noct’s stomach churns. “Ignis!”

Ignis winces, eyes brimming with tears under the strain of Ardyn’s choking grip. His arm stretches out, shaking fingers reaching towards Noct like a silent plea.

Ardyn clicks his tongue and turns his attention to Noct, never letting up on the pressure around Ignis’ throat. “It’s rude to keep people waiting, Noct. And oh, how long I’ve waited.”

His armiger pulls and empties as his friends bring their weapons to hand. Silently they take up position on either side of him. Their faces are focused and serious, ready and waiting to move on Noct’s order. But for the moment they hold position, and stay quiet.

Noct’s eyes lock with Ignis’, full of confusion and desperation and pain. His teeth grit and he chokes under Ardyn’s hold, and the hand reaching for Noct drops like a deadweight to the cold stone.

“Let him go.” Noct growls low and fierce. He hopes his eyes burn with as much rage as he feels welling up inside him. When he looks to Ardyn, it’s with the threat of all his power.

Yet Ardyn only smirks, head cocking to the side like he’s heard something intriguing.

“Hmmm…. You know, dear Noctis, I learned a great many things these last few years. Though I may not be capable of obtaining the crystals power, I can still occasionally hear its whispers. And oh, has it had some interesting things to say while you were gone.”

Ignis hisses and scratches at Ardyn’s unrelenting fingers once more as he gasps out, “Stop… you can’t…”

But Ardyn doesn’t let up, nor does he acknowledge Ignis’ plea.

“Why are we even letting this creep talk?” Gladio grumbles from Noct’s side, his fingers flexing around the hilt of his greatsword.

Noct takes a step forward and in a flash of light the weight of his father’s blade drops into his hand. He wills himself to stay calm, but he never lets his glare leave Ardyn’s smug face.

“Don’t you want to hear what it had to say? Hmm? Since it concerns your dear advisor, here.”

 _Advisor?_ That brings Noct to a halt. When he shoots Ignis a questioning look, he sees him wince, his jaw tensing. Their eyes don’t quite meet.

The title is wrong—Noct had an advisor, before the fall. But when he tries to think to their face, he finds he can’t quite recall them clearly. He frowns. There is no face; he sees nothing but a vague blur, like an afterthought. He can’t even remember if it was a man or a woman, despite his assurance that they’d been with him for a good part of his life.

Yet when his traitorous mind puts Ignis into the picture, for a moment it looks natural; almost _real_.

Pain prickles behind his eyes and he hisses.

“Noct…” Ignis wheezes.

But Ardyn is smiling maliciously. “Ah, I see. You don’t remember, do you? As I thought. How fascinating.”

“Remember what?” Noct bites as he brings a hand up to hold his head.

“Oh, now this is truly a tragedy, isn’t it?” Ardyn says to Ignis this time, hand loosening up enough that Ignis gags for breath. “Was that the trade, then? Their memories of you for a chance to turn back time?”

Ignis’ hands clench, his eyes glaring daggers back at the man. “My life with him… in exchange for the opportunity to save his own.”

Ardyn sneers. “How poetic. Is this really what devotion gets you these days? Tell me, should you succeed, will the gods let you walk free? They demanded a life, and they can be quite stubborn.”

Ignis’ expression tightens but he says nothing.

Ardyn chuckles darkly, knowingly. “Ah, such high demands. Such is the will of the gods.”

“Even so,” Ignis actually has the nerve to smirk up at his captor. “It was enough. You’re power is failing you. You’re nothing but a would-be king, immortal in name only, succumbing to the light.”

“And whose fault is that?” Ardyn hisses, all playfulness gone from his voice as he leans down close. “You interfered with a plan years in the making, and now I’m going to end you like the insignificant worm that you are for your arrogance.”

Noct shakes his head, his eyes flicking between them as he tries and fails to follow their words. “Enough! Tell me what’s going on!”

A heavy pressure fills the room, surging out from Noct as his anger builds. It’s the threat of overwhelming power, one everyone can feel, though Ardyn doesn’t flinch and groan under the weight the way his friends do.

No, instead he looks up slowly with a wicked grin. When Ignis’ eyes go wide and he kicks out, Ardyn’s fingers clamp back down on his throat.

“Shall I regale your beloved Noctis with the tale? You’ve causes me enough trouble as of late, I think it’s only fair.”

“Don’t, you can’t—”

Ignis’ protest is choked from him once more by a harsh squeeze around his windpipe.

Noct steps forward instinctively at the sound of Ignis’ cries of pain, sword raised and ready to strike. His magic fills the air around them, electric and overbearing. But Ardyn is faster and his hand raises, sending a blast of dark energy striking out at Noct, and he stumbles back into his friends.

“Noct!” Prompto’s hands steady him from behind as he coughs for air.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Ardyn warns. “You’ll learn nothing by acting rashly.”

“Then tell me!”

“You were destined to die.”

Noct inhales sharply, his eyes narrowing. “And?”

“Well, by rights you should already _be_ dead.”

More pain flares up in his head and Noct struggles to stay upright under the stress.

“What are you saying?”

“It’s curious, isn’t it?” Ardyn hums and his eyes flicker down to Ignis then back, fingers digging angry red marks into his skin. “In another time you die, and yet in this time you live.”

“What do you mean, ‘this time’?” His knees are shaking, and his vision won’t focus.

Ardyn sighs. “It would seem the gods granted you a second chance, at the behest of your friend here. But at quite the cost, I’d say.”

Listing to the side Noct stumbles and falls to one knee, clutching at his head. His thoughts race, wisps of old memories passing him by, slipping through his fingers like water. There’s a hollowness in his chest, sinking into the pit of his stomach.

“Ah, I assume those headaches you’re suffering are a result of your memories trying to surface. They can’t, of course; they no longer exist. Your mind is simply grasping at what it thinks should be there.” Ardyn explains with mild bemusement. “Though, likely those pesky emotions still linger. Quite the cliché isn’t it? You’ll do yourself harm before you recall anything. Such is the way with stolen time.”

Noct groans, shaking his head. “My memories? What do you mean?”

“Noct,” Ignis manages to say. “Stop, please.”

“Now, now, I’m getting to the best part.” Ardyn finally relents his grip on Ignis’ throat and stands.

 Ignis coughs violently, rasping as he strokes along the ugly bruising of his neck. As soon as Ardyn is on his feet Ignis takes the chance to roll to the side and away, scrambling none-too-gracefully to his hands and knees. The muscles of Noct’s legs tense like he wants to run to Ignis’ side, but his body is alight with pain and dizziness, so he can only stare from where he’s rooted to the spot.

“If you’d be so kind, Noctis,” Ardyn moves to drop into the seat of the throne, fingers tapping idly along the stone arms. “That armiger of yours, have you ever really _looked_ inside?”

Noct fumes at the sight on him there. “What does that have to do with any of this?”

“Merely a theory, but one that may serve to prove my point. So, look. Really look at what’s hidden away in the far corners of your reach. You may be surprised.”

Noct hesitates, but driven by curiosity he focuses deep and delves into the unearthly space.

“He sure likes the sound of his own voice.” Gladio crouches beside him with a hand on his shoulder. “What the hell’s his game here?”

“I don’t know,” Noct winces under another wave of pain. He looks to Ignis again, frozen where he’s kneeling on the steps with his eyes downcast. There’s no fight burning in him anymore; his head hangs dejected, like he’s waiting for the hammer to fall. Noct aches for him.

But he says nothing, and reaches further into the armiger. In his mind it’s a void, bereft of light or gravity or colour where he feels rather than sees the objects within. Each resonates with its own sound, and Noct wades through the familiar crystalline weapons waiting to be summoned.

He hears a second pair of guns sing with gentle metallic vibrations, a greatsword booms with a heavy drumbeat like a heart pounding, his engine blade thrums like glass clinking together. All the different potions and elixirs remind him of violin strings; each a different note that Noct has had a long time to distinguish.

 In another pocket of space are the weapons of the old kings, awash in their own bubble of light and carrying a warm sensation. They harmonize like voices in a song, coming together to produce a sound that’s majestic and overwhelming.

Nothing new is here that Noct can feel, but he persists. He digs further into the darker spaces of the armiger, seldom used or simply forgotten. It’s an infinite space, so he isn’t expecting anything, yet he can’t help but feel driven towards something.

No, _pulled_ towards something.

There, a twinkle in the darkness, something unknown even to him. Wearily he draws its large, long form closer, reaching out his hand. He can’t see it or feel it, and the song is unfamiliar; it reminds Noct of the way the wind whistles through old forests and makes the trees sing. There’s two other shapes too, both the same smaller size and feel. Noct is disturbed to think he’s missed these as well. These ones don’t sound as music-like, they’re more like the violent crackling of fire.

They make him feel melancholic.

He wrenches the strange objects free, the smaller landing in his left hand while the longer lands in his right. He opens his eyes with a jolt, unsure when he’d closed them. Prompto and Gladio are staring at him, faces wrought with confusion as they eye the weapons in his hands, because Noct can tell by the feel and weight alone that they _are_ weapons.

He peers down to stare at the single ornate dagger in his hand. It’s skillfully crafted, with the hilt and grip fancifully designed, yet still light and functional. When he looks to his other hand he’s holding a polearm of similar design and experienced craftsmanship. His eyes trail the smooth finish and the familiar winged designs around the blade; it’s Lucian, no question. Specifically Crown City design, and Noct thinks they may very well have been Crownsguard or Kingsglaive weaponry.

Yet they aren’t his, or those of his friends. He doesn’t know whose they are.

Ardyn chuckles low and it draws Noct’s attention back to him.

“What is this?”

“Reminders of what once was.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

“They belong to your friend there, if I’m not mistaken.” Ardyn waves a dismissive hand in Ignis’ direction, and Noct follows it.

Ignis won’t look at him. Noct inhales sharply and a shiver runs through his body down to his fingers.

With a loud clanging he drops the weapons to the floor, fingers digging into his scalp as pain floods his head again. Somewhere in the flashes of imagines he sees the training room back in the Citadel, and hears the distance clash of steel, practically smells the sweat. Those affronting daggers dance in his mind’s eye.

“How… he’s not…”

Another loud sigh and Ardyn slumps back in the throne. “Oh dear, must I spell it out for you?”

Noct grits his teeth and feels the prick of tears in his eyes. He just wants everything to stop, to _make sense_.

“Hmm, I can see you’re in distress. Well, do try to stay awake for this, Noctis. It’s quite a tale.”

“Just tell me what the hell is going on!” Noct snaps, glaring up at the throne; _his_ throne. “Get to the damn point of all this!”

Ardyn clicks his tongue and leans forward. “Very well then, you insolent child. The prophecy as dictated by the gods was that you would die upon your throne banishing the darkness; a typical tale. One I can only assume came to pass. You died, your _Majesty_. Yet here you are.”

“So you’ve said.” Noct bites back, squishing down the unease of imaging his own death. “Assuming I believe that, what changed?”

“It would seem your _dear_ friend here was so distraught by the thought of your death that he demanded power of the gods; to turn back time so as to have a hand at changing fate. Rather pious, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Ignis…” Noct’s eyes wander to him but he’s gone distant and unreadable, staring at the ground with his fists clenched. He’s not going to speak, Noct knows, so he swallows thickly then turns back to Ardyn.

“What you’re saying makes no sense. I barely know him, so why would he do that?”

“The demands of the gods are high.” Is Ardyn’s reply. “The crystal whispered to me of prices paid, and oh, what a price it was.”

Noct is tired of the run-around. “What price?!”

“As I understand, you two were quite _close_. I endured your sickening memories of a journey that never was. Oh, Noct, dear Ignis has been with you through all of it, almost your whole life, and you can’t even remember! The gods stole your memories, his very existence in this world, and in so doing gave rise to a new fate. An exchange of sorts, and quite a sadistic one, I must say. I'm surprised the gods even allowed it. A bit of whimsy, perhaps? Surely they didn't think he would succeed. Such is the _benevolence_ of deities, I suppose.”

It’s like a dam bursting and Noct collapses to his knees with a pained yell. His mind reels and tries again with futility to bring forth non-existent memories. Through his muffled hearing he’s vaguely aware of his friends yelling his name but he can’t get himself to answer because his mouth has gone dry, his tongue leaden. His body seizes up all at once.

_Ignis and him were friends?_

That can’t be, but…

"How woeful it must be, to save the one who can't even remember—"

"Shut up!" Noct's jaw unclenches and he gasps, “You… you’re lying.”

“Oh, Noctis, you know I’m not.” Ardyn drawls. “I’m sure if you demanded it the crystal would whisper its secrets to you too.”

He can’t deny how Ignis has made him feel. He knows there’s been _something_ about him from the start but he hadn’t known what. Now, with Ardyn’s words rattling around inside him, he can’t shake the feeling that it _could_ be true, as impossible as it sounds. All those old memories tainted by an emptiness, an uneasy sense of loss like Noct was always forgetting one vital piece when he looked back on certain points of his life.

Memories stolen from him. Ignis gone from the world itself.

It would make sense, Noct thinks. Ignis’ behaviour, his words; maybe he really has lived this before. Maybe he knew what was coming.

The agony he must have felt walking away from Noct time and time again, while he stood alone against destiny and gods and ancient magic. Noct can’t imagine what he’s done to get here, but he can feel that pain like it’s his own.

Ignis had refused Noct’s fate and in so doing essentially gave up his life to save him?

_Oh, Ignis…_

Noct manages to lift his head and he finds Ignis is finally looking at him again, face twisted with concern. He looks like he wants to go to Noct’s side but he’s holding himself back. Maybe he’s scared, or ashamed. His eyes are begging Noct for forgiveness.

Noct outstretches a hand and, despite all the ways his body wants to give out from pain, he smiles.

“Ignis.”

It’s all he has to say before Ignis is on his feet and running to him.

The echoing of his footsteps is the only thing that registers to Noct. He isn’t sure what to make of any of this. He’s not even sure if he believes anything that Ardyn has said. But what he does know is that as the distance between him and Ignis closes, so does the hole in his heart, just a little.

A flash of bright red in his peripheral and then Ignis’ face twists in pain as he stumbles forward, breath forced painfully from his lungs. He sprawls awkwardly to the floor, teeth gritting and his fingers digging into his palms. He’s only a few steps away but Noct is too stunned to move, merely letting his hand fall to the floor. He stares wide-eyed at the silver glint of a knife piercing deep into Ignis’ back and hears him bite back a pained cry as the muscles spasm around the blade.

“No!” Noct turns a murderous stare to Ardyn.

“As touching as this little reunion has been,” Ardyn rises from his seat and a dark purple aura swarms around his outstretched hand. “I’ve had my fun watching this atrocity play out at the hands of gods who deigned to allow this fool his wish. Now, we still have business, your Majesty.”

Prompto hurries to Ignis and carefully helps him to stand with Ignis’ arm slung over his shoulder. Noct is grateful because a hurricane of raging emotions keep him rooted to the spot. He only barely manages to turn his head when the two of them limp back to his side.

Yet Ignis doesn’t look at him yet, his eyes stay focused on the dark magic manifesting in Ardyn’s hand. “Be ready, Noct.”

Noct has a million things he wants to say but he lets them all fall from his mind. There will be time, later. When this is all over.

Ardyn lashes out, the dark energy shooting forth in small bursts and his friends all brace for an attack. Noct plants a foot back and raises his hand as light shines from the ring. He doesn’t let himself think on what it is he’s defending from, merely focuses the power deep from within him and sets it loose in one huge wave. In a flash of blue and white light Ardyn’s attack is dispelled, sent careening off harmlessly into the walls around them.

Just like that his power seeps away and Noct is left standing firm. His entire aura is regal, full of determination. This is his power, and he’s had ten years to cultivate and control it. No man alive would mistake him for anything but a king.

Beside him, Ignis sighs with relief, grunting in pain as the dagger dislodges from deep in his back.  “This time, we stand with you, Noct.”

He isn’t sure what Ignis means, but he nods nonetheless. Ardyn is clearly not amused, but he also doesn’t look too surprised. In a bright flash of angry red his crystalline weapons come to life. It’s a familiar armiger, almost mocking as it spins around him to serve as a reminded that Ardyn is indeed of the line of Lucis; a king that never was.

“Well then, a fight to the death it is. Tonight the dreams of the blood royal come to an end.”

Noct nods defiantly. “Off my chair, jester. The king sits there.”

Ardyn sneers. He wastes no time lunging in for the first attack, and Noct only has a moment to summon his own armiger before their glaives clash in an explosion of light and sound.

His friends dive out of the way, and soon Noct hears the cracks of gunfire. They shatter off Ardyn’s weapons as each shot is deflected. Noct summons his father’s sword to hand and yells, swinging the blade up in an arch that forces Ardyn back.

As the man stumbles Gladio takes the chance to dive in next, greatsword swinging down close enough to catch Ardyn’s arm. Black smoke hisses from the wound but Ardyn merely clicks his tongue before Gladio is struck by a harsh sweep of dark energy, throwing him off his feet and sending him slamming into the far wall.

“Gladio!” Noct calls but Ardyn is on him before he can move, and he brings his sword up to parry the large scythe-shaped weapon Ardyn brings down on him. The thing feels as heavy as steel but it shimmers with red light; like a _glaive_. His own glaive, never enshrined because he never died.

Ardyn smirks from behind his blade as Noct shakes under the weight of it, his eyes bleeding black and making him look truly monstrous.

“This was supposed to be a battle of kings. If your friends wish to interfere, then you must be prepared to risk their lives.”

Noct grits his teeth, but thankfully he catches sight of Prompto helping Gladio to his feet. Ardyn’s right, this is a fight between powers beyond those of his friends. He doesn’t want them to risk themselves here. But he knows they won’t leave him to fight alone.

That devotion even at the risk of one’s own life is something Noct has always had a hard time accepting. He fears the weight of his life being held to a greater importance than someone else’s. He may be the chosen king, but he’s no monster. He doesn’t sacrifice others. He’s not Ardyn.

Noct flexes every muscle and pushes, face twisted with defiance and rage. He manages a step, then another, and another. Slowly he forces Ardyn back, and finally with a roar he brings his blade up and unlocks their weapons. Ardyn looks only mildly amused as he swings his scythe around effortlessly, and Noct ducks just beneath the blade’s path. Another comes round and he blocks it full force, the blow sending a shock all through his body. In a flash of blue Noct is gone, warping across the room and Ardyn stumbles for a moment from the loss of balance.

Noct lands a few steps up to the throne and brandishes his weapon, but he halts when he hears more bullets, and sees the flash of metal against Ardyn’s armiger. Prompto doesn’t move even as Ardyn turns to face him, and he doesn’t stop firing when a blade dislodges from the crystalline shield and shoots for him.

Fear grips Noct’s heart but he doesn’t get the chance to move. Just as Ardyn’s loosed blade nears Prompto, Gladio steps forward and blocks the blow with a grunt. The weapon shatters against his shield and Gladio lunges, swinging his sword in two swift arches that cause Ardyn to step back, though he looks uninterested by the display. Gladio brings his shield up against Ardyn’s counterstrike and takes the blow, striking out again as Prompto continues his barrage.

It’s practiced and precise, clearly something the two of them have done before. It’s impressive, Noct thinks. He’s realizing how much he’s missed over these last ten years, and how much his friends have grown without him.

A blur of movement and suddenly there’s a pull at Noct’s armiger. The mysterious daggers buried deep within are wrenched free, and he stumbles under the weight of fire magic being summoned to the blades.

Ignis lets the fire consume the daggers; weapons that are _his own_ , Noct has come to realize. Ignis has access to his armiger and his magic. Noct can’t even take the time to fathom that before Ignis is rushing into the fight.

He slides in at Ardyn’s back and swipes in to two full arches, dancing expertly with the daggers in fluid motions. Ardyn knows he’s coming of course, but his speed allows for Ignis to get two deep, flaming slashes across his back before Ardyn growls and swings around to face him. As his attention turns, Prompto lands a shot that scratches deep across Ardyn’s face.

Ardyn recoils with the force of the blow, more black oozing from the wounds. He no longer looks bemused. His hand raises and his armiger bursts in a wall of light, tossing the three of them away before they can move to retreat.

Noct’s eyes widen in concern as he watches his friends all hit the floor but he bites back his worried cry. He knows they’re fine; he has to trust them. He _does_ trust them.

Noct charges, armiger alight around him as he clashes with Ardyn’s sinister red glow. The two warp around the room at speeds his friends can’t hope to match. The metallic clang of blades crashing off each other over and over again fills the hall, light bursting with each strike of crystalline magic. Scorch marks appear on the marble floors and walls almost instantaneously as the entire hall becomes their battleground. Neither gives an inch.

After a while Noct backs off, panting heavily as he kneels on the pile of rubble leading outside that was once the wall, sword buried in the dirt for support. Ardyn rolls his shoulders almost mockingly.

There’s another crack of gunfire and his friends are in the fray again. Ignis, despite his injury dragging down his body, is a near blur of spinning blades, flames licking up the metal and putting Ardyn on the defensive. Prompto maintains a steady cover fire, and Gladio takes the chance to attack from behind, catching Ardyn across the back, this time deep enough to draw out more hazy dark miasma.

Noct is proud. He fears Ardyn is toying with them, though. His power is such that Noct wouldn’t think the others would be capable of matching him, but together they seem to be holding their own. Whether or not Ardyn is _actually_ struggling against them, it doesn’t matter; they can’t finish this fight. It can only be Noct.

Sure enough, even as Ardyn stumbles with the force of Gladio’s blow, he sneers and warps away before Ignis can strike a lethal double-strike from the front.

“We’ve got him on the ropes,” Gladio huffs as he draws himself back to brace for the next attack.

Prompto ceases fire, hands quick to reload. “You think so, big guy?”

Ignis however says nothing, and looks wholly unconvinced while his eyes scan the room. Sure enough, before any of them can move, Ardyn reappears just behind Ignis, black blood dripping from his skin as his wounds knit back together.

Noct’s eyes go wide but he can’t even get a word out before Ignis is spinning, daggers barring down as the other’s call out in alarm. But Ardyn is faster. He deflects Ignis’ swing with the armiger, hard enough that Ignis grunts at the impact and the daggers fly from his hands.

Gladio and Prompto make to jump in but Ardyn blasts them back once more. Noct watches horrified as Ardyn moves like lightning, hand flying out and gripping tight around Ignis’ throat, fingers slipping into the already deep bruising from before.

“Shall I end you first?” Ardyn hisses as his arm raises and Ignis chokes and kicks uselessly without the floor beneath him. “You’ve caused enough trouble for me, after all.”

Noct summons the full brunt of his power back, bringing the armiger to life. Even as Ignis digs his fingers into Ardyn’s arm, he meets Noct’s gaze, and it’s all he needs.

Charging up the full breadth of his power Noct warps, flying across the room towards Ardyn with his sword poised for a deadly strike. With a sickening squelch of torn tissue and the snapping of bone, Noct cuts clean through his arm and lands on one knee in a beautiful and deadly blue shimmer. Ardyn's yell is viceral as he stumbles back, severed arm thumping to the floor. Ignis drops to his knees heavily, coughing violently. His hand comes up to cradle his abused throat as he rolls away from the fight.

There’s no blood that drips from the brutal wound Noct has dealt Ardyn, and he feels nauseous at the sight of the thick black sludge that falls from the severed stump instead.

“You,” Ardyn growls, his armiger flaring to life around him once more. “Are becoming increasingly irritating.”

Magic swarms around Noct, encircling him in blue light. “I won’t let you hurt anyone ever again.”

He brings his blade forward for another strike but stumbles into nothing when Ardyn warps away. In a flash of red he’s up the steps of the dais, slumped before the throne.

Black smoke swarms Ardyn’s body, collecting around what remains of his oozing stump. The severed and lifeless arm on the ground at Noct’s feet melts to goo then evaporates into a haze that snakes along the floor and up the steps, adding itself to the darkness around Ardyn’s body.

There’s a wet crackling as skin and bone and muscle all rebuild from the shoulder down until Noct is staring at Ardyn’s arm, fully intact and unscathed. He forces himself to keep his expression passive, regardless of how disturbing it is; he knows Ardyn can’t be killed so easily, after all. He shouldn’t be surprised by this.

“You’ll have to do better than that.” Ardyn says mockingly, his ire subdued by the smugness of his grin as he flexes his new fingers.

A dagger whizzes just past Noct’s ear and imbeds itself deep into Ardyn’s shoulder.

Noct jumps in surprise and even Ardyn looks startled as his head tilts towards the offending blade piercing his skin. But before he can move another dagger sinks into his other shoulder and he stumbles back.

Ignis is at Noct’s side a moment later. His jaw is clenched, eyes hard. The blood from his wound has seeped through his coat, soaking his back with blood that now slips down his arms, dripping from his shaking fingers. He’s breathing heavily; too heavily, Noct worries. The vile bruising of his throat stands contrast to the paleness of his skin.

“You think you can kill me so easily?” Ardyn hisses, his tone somewhere between annoyance and amusement. “What is it you hope to accomplish, besides your early end? Will we both be erased from history with naught but the title of ‘usurper’?”

The daggers disappear from Ardyn’s body and Noct feels the armiger lurch as Ignis summons the blades back to his hands.

“I am nothing like you.” Ignis grits as he launches one of the daggers again, hitting its target and forcing Ardyn to fall back until his legs hit the throne. “I’ve done much to get here. I plunged the depths of Eos’ oldest ruins, I made demands of the gods, I bore the ring’s power, and I waited another ten years of darkness I’d hoped to never have to face again. I planned and trained and prepared for this day many times over.”

Noct’s heart sinks, and he reaches out for Ignis but he’s already taken the first few steps up to the throne. He launches the second dagger, the blade piercing deep into Ardyn once more and knocking him off kilter. Black blood drips like oil from the wounds.

“I did all of it for _Noct_. I refuse to let this world take him away. Not again. Not ever!”

Tears prick at the corners of Noct’s eyes. He wishes he could remember—wishes he could thank Ignis with all the sincerity he deserves for doing what he’s done. If only he could be the Noct Ignis remembers; the Noct who truly knows him.

“Ignis…”

“I may not have the power to stop you,” Ignis draws the daggers back and they disappear, then the polearm shimmers to life in his hands instead. “But he does.”

Ignis throws all his weight forward and he jumps, lunging with what's left of his strength to land hard at the top of the dias and plunge the blade of his lance deep into Ardyn’s shoulder. He forces Ardyn back with a guttural sound as he slumps down into the throne.

Ignis’ whole body shakes from the exertion of keeping Ardyn pinned down. His jacket is damp and darkened with blood.

_Too much blood._

But still Ignis lifts his head and looks back with fiery green eyes.

“Now, Noct!”

Noct doesn’t hesitate. He warps in a flash of blue even as Ardyn lifts his hand to attack, and with one powerful thrust his sword pierces Ardyn’s chest and imbeds deep into the back of the throne, pinning him in place.

Ardyn chokes and writhes as black blood seeps from the wound and up to his mouth, dripping down his lips.

“This… won’t end me.” He hisses, too much like a daemon. 

Something like a song calls from overhead, and Noct looks to the crystal suspended above the throne. Light spills from it; pure power, and he knows the call. It’s that of the light, the kings of old, the astrals themselves.

Ignis dislodges his polearm from Ardyn’s body and stumbles back, using it to lean on as his legs shake. Noct catches his arm just as he collapses to his knees. His fingers meet wet cloth, staining his skin red. Ardyn’s dagger hit deep, and likely something vital. Noct swallows thickly and shudders.

“Ignis, you—”

“End it, Noct.” Ignis grits, using what strength he can muster to lock eyes with Noct. “End this, and see the dawn.”

Noct stares at him, brows knit together and his lips parted like he wants to protest, but he can’t speak. Instead he nods solemnly and stands, lifting his hand to the crystal, and his ring seems to thrum and burn around his finger in recognition.

He faces Ardyn, his eyes shining bright as he grips the hilt of his sword. He raises the hand bearing the ring high towards the crystal, and his armiger shimmers into being around him.

“So this is how you would end it.” Ardyn grins, his voice tired and cracked.

Noct practically growls as he swings his hand down and one by one the weapons of the old kings pierce through Ardyn, exploding in a bright flash of light.

Ardyn convulses with each blow, head forced painfully into the back of the throne on each impact, black ooze spilling from all over his body as the dark miasma melts from his body. Noct doesn’t relent, bringing the full force of each strike down upon Ardyn until his weapons have all been spent. In one final move he sends a surge of power through his father’s sword, which lights like fire down the metal until it finds its mark.

Everything goes silent. Ardyn slumps forward, head nearly touching the cool steel of Noct’s blade as black blood drips from his mouth, his eyes, his nose. Noct steps back, breathing heavily. He smells ash and decay, and watches disgusted as Ardyn’s body burns away and dissolves piece by piece into the dark smoke pouring off him.

“What would you do now?” Ardyn’s voice sounds from the darkness, warbled and spiteful. “Banish the darkness? Erase me from history once more?”

Despite himself, Noct falters. He knows what Ardyn has done; he cannot and will not forgive him for that. But he has seen his past. He knows what Ardyn once was, what he’d done for his people. The healer he had been, sacrificing himself to save his people from the scourge, and the subsequent betrayal of his brother for the throne only to be refused an end and spurned by the gods. Noct knows all of it, he’d seen it all during reflection, felt it like it was his own past. He can’t help but wonder what Lucis would have been like had the gods not exiled Ardyn to an immortal darkness. Had his own flesh and blood not stained the Lucis line so horridly.

Noct swallows thickly, his sweat-slick hands trembling around the hilt of his sword. “No. You’ll be at peace. Close your eyes... forevermore.”

Slowly Ardyn’s body disappears, whisked away into the darkness, until Noct’s sword loosens from the throne and falls back into his hand.

He hears his voice one last time.

“We shall finish this in the beyond.”

He’s vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps behind him, and indeed when he lifts his weary head he sees Gladio and Prompto climbing the steps. Ardyn’s presence disappears entirely from before them. They say nothing, likely stunned into silence. Not that Noct has a real answer for what’s happening. But he knows what he has to do next.

He lets his sword loose from his grip and it shatters into crystals and re-enters the armiger. With his body aching and spent he drops down into the seat of the throne; _his_ throne.

Finally, he’s here. He’s home, where he should be.

Noct smiles a little and mumbles almost silently, “We finally made it.”

_But we’re not done yet._

Ignis’ hand slides up just enough to grip at the fabric above Noct’s knee from where he’s slumped beside the throne.

After a moment he feels Prompto’s hand land on his shoulder. “We’re with you, Noct.”

Gladio’s hand rests on his forearm. “To the end.”

“You alone may wield the power of kings,” Ignis manages to say, and Noct’s breath hitches when he hears Ignis choke on the blood in his mouth. “But you needn’t bear it alone.”

Noct nods resolutely before steeling himself and looking up to the crystal. For a moment he does nothing but breathe deeply, eyes falling shut while he feels for the warm and familiar light within him, calling him to his higher purpose. Then he takes hold of all that power and _pulls_.

“Kings of Lucis, come to me!”

The ring alights as he raises it high and his armiger shatters into crystal shards, flying around the room to form the massive glaives of old in a glorious blue light. The room becomes darker, illuminated by the ethereal glow of each glaive and the crystal as it bursts to life.

Giant figures rise from the light, donned in fanciful armour, some with fantastical wings while others bear decorative adornments. Noct hears his friend’s sounds of shock and awe as the kings of yore stand before them in their eternal glory.

The figures loom imposingly and Noct stares back, waiting for what he knows is coming.

The first of the old kings—the overbearing figure of Somnus himself—pulls his royal arm from the floor and flies forward. In a flash of white he collides with Noct, forcing his body to jerk back violently and strangled cry is ripped from his throat. The ring heats against his skin, almost burning as the light is swallowed inside. Noct shudders under the weight and he grits his teeth. He can already feel sweat on his skin, and he drops his hands to grip tight to the arms of the throne.

But he hears his friends groan as well and he catches the surging pulses of light that halo their bodies and stretch like veins along their skin before disappearing.

And Noct understands.

He wants to pull away, to save his friends from bearing the weight of kings with him, but he’s stopped when Ignis’ fingers tighten on his leg. Neither of them say a word, but somehow in his heightened state he knows what Ignis is saying to him; _asking_ of him.

_Let us help you._

So Noct endures, and in the silence of his own mind he thanks his friends as he beckons the next king to him.

Each hit burns and tears at his body and sends power surging through Noct and his friends. His body is weighed down more and more. If he were alone, he may have been torn apart long ago.

It feels like an eternity before each king’s power is absorbed by the ring with a violent charge of raw power. When it finally ends Noct slumps where he sits, panting loudly. His whole body trembles and spasms and there’s fire dancing across each and every nerve and it makes his skin tingle. There’s a dull throbbing in his head, pounding behind his eyes which blurs his vision and dampens his hearing. It’s like being underwater.

He feels the weight of so many souls, almost like he’s become multiple people just beneath his own self. If he tries to concentrate past the fuzziness of his mind he can almost hear their voices booming inside him.

In his peripheral he sees one light remains before him and he knows who it is, without a shadow of a doubt.

“Dad,” He gasps. His fingers grip tight to the cold stone, his jaw clenching as he glistens with a cold sweat. “Trust in me.”

For a moment he sees the expressionless head of armour turn slightly, looking to the right of the throne. Ignis is still kneeling there, barely conscious despite his grip still locked in Noct’s pant leg. He manages to lift his head just enough and he nods as if he and Regis have had a silent acknowledgment of one another.

It makes Noct wonder if the old kings know what Ignis has done; if they know Ignis has turned back time and changed fate, like Ardyn had said. More and more Noct is willing to believe it to be true. He hopes, when this is over, they’ll both still be standing to talk about it.

Though if they are, he knows deep down they won’t be the same. Without Noct’s memories, him and Ignis will never be what they were, whatever that may have been. That thought makes Noct ache with pity. He’s come to think there’s a side to their relationship that was lost with those memories. Something Noct can’t place and can’t really _feel_ but he knows Ignis remembers. He knows it hurts him to have lost whatever that was.

Yet in spite of that, Ignis was willing to lose it all to save him.

The strength of the final blow draws Noct back to the present. _Later_ , he reminds himself as he recoils from the force of absorbing his father’s power. There will be a later time to deal with this. He’ll make sure of it.

The room is dark once more but for the light of the crystal spilling out from overhead. The only sound in the room is the heavy breathing of his friends. Trembling hands are still on him as he wills his drained body to sit straight.

“You guys still with me?”

 He looks to his left at Prompto and Gladio. They’re both pale and shaken and neither manages to speak. Nevertheless they both shoot him a look like he’s a fool for even asking, and Noct wishes he had the strength to laugh, but all he can mange is a strained grin.

It falters immediately when he turns to the right. Ignis is much worse for wear. His breathing is ragged, his skin a deathly white and gleaming with sweat. Blood stains much of his clothes, and there’s a slowly growing pool beneath him. His head is bowed, forehead pressed into Noct’s knee.

Noct knew Ardyn’s attack had caused a grave injury, and no doubt the fight had torn it open more. Then to absorb the Lucii’s power with Noct… He’d tried hard to ignore his fear for the sake of his mission. But now, with Ignis slumped so lifelessly beside him, his terror finally surfaces and he gasps. His heart pounds in his ears and his mouth goes dry as he slips a hand down to grip the one Ignis still has imbedded in his pant leg.

“Ignis? Ignis! You with me?”

Theres' a moment of silence where he hears Ignis swallow and let out a disturbingly wet cough.

“Always.”

Noct winces. That word alone makes his mind swim, reaching for whatever lost meaning it bears. His whole body hurts too much to register the sting it creates behind himd eyes. He grits his teeth and looks away from Ignis, trying to focus on what he has to do rather than the fact that his friend is dying at his feet.

He’s not done, but he will be soon.

Dawn is coming.

He reaches his ring hand towards the crystal and calls upon it. The thrumming of the souls of the old kings within him overtakes his mind. He feels like so many people stacked on top of each other, he’s not sure where he ends and the old kings begin; he is all of them and none of them all at once. He’s being pulled as if from existence itself, back to the familiar plane of his reflection. After a while he can’t feel his body, but he never loses the feeling of his friends with him.

If he’s to take this to the beyond, they’ll be coming with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank Ardyn for providing the exposition dump


	9. Chapter 9

He’s weightless, nothing around him but the blue endlessness of the void within the crystal. It’s familiar and he doesn’t fear the ethereal swarming power pulsing around him. This has been his home for the last ten years, he knows it’s overwhelming grip all too well.

Far away he sees a dark shape, and then in an instant they’re mere feet away. Ardyn’s mutilated, daemonic visage stares back at him in disgust.

Noct cannot speak, not that he has anything left to say.

He raises a hand and calls to the crystal, channelling his immense power through the ring. Pain courses through him, needling at his back and swelling just under the skin. That which he’s brought here tears itself outward, and his body is set ablaze. Shards of crystalline magic as rigid as glass rip from his skin, slow and arduous and he almost can’t bear the pain until all once he screams and the glaives are flying free, floating off before shimmering into their full glory. The kings of yore stand behind him now with their weapon's in hand, those mighty visages of his lineage set to end an ageless evil.

But he doesn’t feel the cold solitude he’d expected of the crystal.

He turns his head and smiles.

Gladio stands to his right, Prompto just beside him. They’re no illusion—Noct can feel their souls here with him. They too cannot speak, but Gladio looks to him and nods, his face trained and stoic. Prompto is less so with the way he’s grinning, and Noct couldn’t ask them for anything more.

When he looks left, there shining bright and haloed by golden light with trident in hand is Luna. Her expression is one of determination and focus, but when she turns to face him she softens and smiles back at him sweetly.

Beside her Noct nearly cries when he sees the weathered image of his father. He only nods, poised and majestic, but it’s enough. Noct can sense his pride, and his regrets.

Noct wishes he could speak; wishes he could say all the things he left unsaid. He wants to thank them, to apologize, _something_. But this will have to be enough. He hopes his heart reaches them here in the astral plane, if nothing else.

There’s one more presence he can feel; wistful, desperate, new and old at the same time.

Just behind, standing back-to-back with him. Noct knows it’s Ignis even though he can’t turn to face him. He stands like a shadow, a silent sentinel, and Noct finds solace in his presence. He reaches back to feel Ignis’ hand hanging limp at his side, and laces their fingers together.

He couldn’t say what makes him do it, but he doesn’t care. He holds firm, content when Ignis squeezes his hand in return.

His ring hand burns, the pain licking up his skin as he raises it towards Ardyn. He can feel surging energy from within and from those standing with him. They all bore this power with him, now he must take it all back. It’s his time to use it.

He swings his arm forward, and everything inside him releases. He nearly screams as the ring explodes with light, and from behind him the old kings charge forward in an epic cascade of radiance. With weapons brandishes they each strike at Ardyn with an age-old power, shattering into light and leaving him weaker and weaker with each blow. Parts of his scourged body crack and break away under the onslaught.

Noct winces as Ardyn lets out disturbingly inhuman sounds of anguish, each attack wiping more and more of him away, stripping his immortality and showing him for the dark and twisted daemon he’s become after all these years.

Under the immense weight of his power, Noct’s skin begins to blister and scar. But he is reassured by the presence of his friends, and he feels Luna’s healing light as she shines golden beside him. Ignis squeezes his hand tightly like a lifeline, and he knows he won’t fall.

The kings lash out again and again, until finally the last blow lands and light explodes, and Ardyn disappears in a final wisp of blackness, consumed by the crystal until nothing remains.

For a time, everything is quiet. The overbearing visages of the old kings fracture like glass and fade into nothing. Finally, Noct’s mind goes silent and he is himself again, the glaives humming away within him once more. He stares numbly at the emptiness where Ardyn once stood.

An eternity of solitude and consuming darkness had turned Ardyn into something less than human. If the gods had not forsaken him, if his lineage had not been denied him, what would he have been? Had Noct been lesser, could he have suffered the same fate? The gods are omnipotent and apathetic; draconian in their judgments, for the most part. They’d sent the Crystal to the Lucis line, given humanity a taste of power and prosperity, and then divined a prophecy with which to fix their own age-old mistake with no care for the cost. If Noct was to sacrifice himself for his people —for the light— how is he different from who Ardyn used to be? He shudders at the thought.

But it’s all different now. He cannot think about what could have been, or _should_ have been. He has suffered loss but has become stronger for it. He did not and will not forsake and sacrifice others to satisfy his own ends. Their blood may be the same, but Noct is a true king in heart as well as title.

And he is _alive_.

It’s over. He’s done it.

There’s an immense sense of ease that settles into the void space. The suffocating atmosphere of Ardyn’s dark scourge-ridden aura has disappeared and it’s like a breath of fresh air. Under Noct’s skin his power is still warm and crackles excitedly as if singing his praises. Without the invasive thoughts of his ancestors he truly feels in control again.

Noct exhales sharply and tries to focus his dizzying vision. Despite there being no solid ground he stumbles forward, eyeing the ashen pallor of his skin as if it’s not his own. A throbbing pressure radiates through his body, yet he can’t quite connect it to the cracked and torn parts of himself. He knows he should be in pain, yet his nerves are so shot he can’t even tell anymore.

Slowly he lifts his head. Beside him his friends begin to fade away, their presences disappearing back from this void space to re-enter the real world. Noct doesn’t fear it; he knows he’ll see them again. His lips strain to pull upwards as both Prompto and Gladio’s visages dissipate into light, then nothing.

But he feels his father leaving too, and Luna.

When he turns, his father looks back, a small smile gracing his lips and it makes Noct’s eyes well. When was the last time he saw his father truly smile? Yet his face is weary, his time bearing the crystal’s power showing in all the ways Noct once hated. He _still_ hates it, even now, staring at the wrinkles like canyons through his skin, the darkness under his eyes, the way he slumps as if too weak to fully bear his own weight. Noct looks back to their last words and the last time he’s seen his father and he feels nothing but regret. If he’d know… what would he have done differently?

But even then, the moment is bittersweet, because Regis shakes his head as if sensing his son’s despair. He’s proud, even if he can’t voice it.

The space between them shrinks suddenly and his father is hugging him. Noct screws his eyes shut as tears prick his eyes and a cry slips past his lips that he feels vibrating his throat even if he can’t hear it. Desperate hands cling to his father for a moment as if he’s a child once more, begging his father to chase away the nightmares and the monsters. But this time it’s Noct who had banished the darkness, and yet still he melts into the warm familiarity of a fatherly embrace he’s missed so much.

Regis’ hand finds the back of Noct’s head, running worn fingers through his hair like he’d done so very long ago. Those moments Noct had wished for, and had taken for granted. The moments Regis was not his king, but his father.

_Dad, I walked tall._

Even as they hug Noct can feel his father fading, his fingers starting to slip through nothing. Eventually he stumbles into empty space as Regis shatters into crystal lights and shimmers out of existence. Noct prays he’s at peace with his mother, and those who came before.

Luna lingers a little longer, her warm golden light enveloping her. She reaches out her hand as Noct turns to face her, and Noct continues to let tears roll down his damp cheeks as he finally lets their fingers touch.

They may not have been in love, but she was still as dear to him as a friend and sister. He wishes they’d had time; wishes he could have saved her. He wishes at times that he could return to those fields of Tenebrae as children, smell the sylleblossoms they’d sown into crowns and pressed into the notebook. He wished he had understood the weight of her calling back then, and that he’d been strong enough to wrest her from the clutches of the empire.

It’s a constant battle of regrets and doubts that Noct has come to forgive himself for, but he will never forget it.

A tear slips down her cheek and she bows her head as if sensing his thoughts. Her glow expands, and Noct feels the tingling warmth envelope him until they shine brightly together like a beacon. Skin prickles as torn wounds knit themselves back together and the subsequent scars fade to almost nothing. He gasps; the first real sound he’s managed to make. Once his body is healed and the light fades from them both, Luna nods.

Their hands slip free and Noct reaches his arm forward in a panic, but Luna only floats farther away. Just like everyone else she begins to fade slowly, chased by shards of shimmering blue light that resemble those beloved sylleblossom petals. A fitting end for the oracle who loved them so.

When she’s gone, Noct can only commit here smiling face to memory.

He expects his own consciousness to start swimming back from the void and his body to shatter any second now, but he doesn’t. He continues to linger, and after a moment his nerves alight as panic creeps into his body. Staring down at his hands, he swallows dryly.

Perhaps the gods wouldn’t allow him to live after all.

But no, that’s not what keeps him here. There’s still a presence at his back.

When he turns his head he sees that Ignis is still there, facing away from him. Noct hadn’t even realized he’d let go of his hand.

Noct is glad to see him, but he’s wracked with concern. Ignis shouldn’t still be here, and he’s not turning to face him. So Noct moves instead, coming to stand just in front of him as a dread settles in the pit of his stomach at the wrongness he feels.

Ignis lifts his head, and Noct is disturbed by the sombre look he gets. He's pale and exhausted, and his whole body shakes.

Just as Noct reaches out Ignis collapses forwards into him.

“Ignis!”

His voice finally breaks through the void, explosive in his ears. Wrapping one arm around Ignis’ waist he slowly brings them to kneel. His other hand finds purchase on his back, and it squishes against blood-soaked fabric.

Noct can only stare wide-eyed into nothing as Ignis breathes shallowly in his ear. His breath is scalding, but there’s cold sweat pressed against his skin. Noct tightens his jaw and digs teeth into his lower lip. Gently he settles his reddened fingers into the hair at the base of his neck, keeping Ignis’ head pressed into his shoulder.

Something shifts in the air around them and then a deep, resounding voice erupts from the silence.

“The immortal accursed is vanquished. The chosen stands. The one who defied destinies past must fulfill his sworn oath.”

Noct quirks his head, barely looking to Bahamut’s mighty form looming over them. His eyes burn with anger and despair, even as Ignis shudders. There’s blood slicking his skin, staining it red like a grim reminder that Ignis is dying in his arms.

“You already took my memories of him.” Noct says harshly. “What more could you want?”

“A heavy price is paid for the defiance of a fate ordained by the gods. To defy is to risk oneself, body and soul.”

Noct clicks his tongue and brings his power to bear, still raging and raw inside him. It swirls and thrashes around him like a hurricane, twisting the void around them. His eyes flash crimson.

“Forget that! Save him!”

But Bahamut does not. Noct feels Ignis move, and a hand rises to dig fingers into his sleeve. Though Ignis holds onto him as best he can it feels like almost nothing. His voice is gravelled and weak when he speaks.

“This was my choice, Noct. I made a deal… and I must pay the price. In full.”

Noct shakes his head. Tears pricking his eyes.

“The entropy of the universe must be maintained.” Bahamut speaks plainly. “To recreate time, one must be willing to sacrifice all, including their own. But to allow your soul to walk the earth, another must leave it.”

_A life for a life._

Everything inside of Noct plummets. His fingers shake both in pain and frustration. So this is what Ignis meant before. He tore himself from all of their memories just for the _chance_ to change fate, knowing full well that if he succeeded, he would die. The gods stole Ignis from all of their memories like some kind of sick test, forcing Ignis to face the world alone. Did the gods even believe he would succeed, or were they merely humouring him by granting his wish?

Noct wants to scream, but his throat burns too much. Instead he hugs Ignis tighter to himself and bites out, “No wonder they call you Draconian.”

“Noct…”

“My headaches… that was me trying to remember, right?”

He almost reaches for those lost memories again, but his body aches and his mind lurches before he can ever try. If he could punch something, he would. Instead he grits his teeth and squeezes Ignis closer to him as if that alone could tell him what he wishes to know.

“Why couldn’t you just let me remember?”

Ignis shakes his head, his words a caressing breath in his ear when he say, “As the world is now, I don’t even exist. Our time together was real, but your memories of it are gone. You wouldn’t have remembered. You would merely have torn your mind to shreds. Of course I couldn’t let you try.”

“And what?” Words feel pointless now but he fears the silence. He fears the blood he can feel on his hands. “You just went on alone? You couldn’t ask for help?”

“It was… safer this way.” It’s a lame excuse, and Ignis shrinks into Noct’s arms like he knows it.

“For you or for me?”

“Noct, please…”

“You did all this.” He says before he can let Ignis try and speak more. “I don’t even remember you, yet you went this far for me. The hell kind of friend am I that I can’t even—”

“I made a sacrifice. My life was forfeit regardless. Either by Ardyn's blade or the hand of the gods...”

“You would have died either way.” Noct finishes, barely above a whisper.

Ignis nods dejectedly. “I would do it again. I would suffer this solitude, I would bring this world to ruin if need be, just to see you again.” 

He groans and digs his fingers into Noct’s arm. With some effort he manages to pull away enough that he can look him in the eye, hands coming to cradle Noct’s face with careful tenderness. There’s blood coating his lips.

 “I couldn’t bear a world without you. I would do anything for you to see the dawn, even if I could not.”

“Ignis…”

“You can’t even remember, but…” Ignis smiles softly to himself, eyes falling away and he shakes his head. “No, forgive me. It would be pointless to tell you now. Those feelings are gone.”

“Tell me what?” Noct pleads, but Ignis is leaning away and struggling to his feet.

Once Ignis gets his shaking legs under him he brings himself to stand straight, his expression hardened and deathly serious.

He takes a deep breath and with all the force he can muster, says, “Do the gods recognize this sacrifice? Do they see fit to grant the chosen king his life?”

Bahamut is quiet for a time, staring with all the intimidating scrutiny of a god, but Ignis doesn’t falter for a moment.

“We do.”

Ignis sighs, bowing his head. Then he looks back at Noct who remains unmoved, his frenzied emotions bearing down on him as if he’s being crushed.

“Noct, I… thank you. For everything.”

Noct’s mouth falls open but no words come out as Ignis closes his eyes and collapses. It’s like watching a marionette cut from its strings. Noct only barely manages to kick his muscles into gear and catch Ignis’ limp body before it hits nothingness.

As Noct sinks back down with Ignis’ body cradled in his arms, there’s no movement. 

“Ignis?”

Nothing. Noct inhales sharply and his tears slip free, staining his cheeks. His hands shake. There’s the faintest ghost of a smile on Ignis’ face and he hates it.

“Ignis! Come on, please!”

“It is done.” Bahamut’s voice echoes from all around him. “The deal is fulfilled. The chosen may go and live in this new dawn, free of the accursed dark.”

Noct leans forward, hugging Ignis’ lifeless body to him. That chasm inside him tears open violently, leaving him feeling hollow. For a time he can do nothing but sit there, rocking back and forth, staring blankly into nothing as reality crashes over him. Ignis is gone, an empty weight in his arms; no soothing words or gentle touches. No reassurance that everything would be alright, even if he knew from the start it wouldn’t be.

Noct screams angry and ragged until his throat burns. He doesn’t know Ignis well but he understands the pain inside him; it’s too much, too powerful. He’ll never know where it comes from now. When his voice finally gives out he slumps, clinging to Ignis’ lifeless body. Tears won’t come any longer but his breath still hitches and he convulses with soundless sobs. His whole body is alight with pain and he’s trembling uncontrollably from a myriad of raw, agonizing emotions.

One thing races through his mind over and over.

_Ignis did all this for him, and this is his reward?_

It has been like this from the beginning. Not once have the gods been known for sympathy. Like his father, like Luna, like Ardyn; they are all just means to an end in the eyes of immortals and deities. Prophecies and destiny; all ordained by them to correct their own mistakes, and those who wish for peace and happiness only meet with tragedy. It’s taken Noct too long to realize, but he’s done being afraid of them, of being ignorant and obedient.

A newfound wrath swells from deep inside him. His powers accumulate just beneath the surface and his fingers tingle with apprehension.

“I am the chosen king.” Noct cradles Ignis’ body and gently lays him down.

Bahamut watches vacant as Noct rises, fists clenched.

“I am Noctis Lucis Caelum, one-hundred and fourteenth of the line of Lucis. As ordained by the gods and the crystal I am the chosen king made to end the darkness and bring forth the light. I was promised a power that surpasses even that of the gods themselves.”

At that Bahamut reacts with a low grumble. His eyes narrow.

“The chosen king—”

Noct focuses his power to a point in his palm and lashes out. In a blast of light he sends the god reeling through the void space. Noct’s entire body screams from the exertion and he gasps for breath like all the air has been punched from his lungs.

Bahamut rights himself, swords in the shape of wings flex and bear out threateningly.

“My power is my own. Stronger than any of you.”

“It is not yours to squander as you see fit!” Bahamut’s voice nearly makes his ears bleed.

“I’ve spent my life being made to accept my calling. I never questioned the gods. But no more. It’s you who should fear me!”

He draws his hands apart and summons a brilliant wall of light as Bahamut brings his giant golden blade around, and it shatters into harmless crystal shards against his magic. Again Noct stumbles under the blow but refuses to fall.

“I can do what you can’t. I can defy you!”

“This is not your calling, chosen king!” Bahamut’s clawed gauntlets rip at him, but his shield screeches and sparks against the onslaught.

Noct wipes the sweat from his brow and raises his ring hand. Power channels through, a long blade of pure white light extends outward, slashing upwards in a wide arch. It tears through the emptiness, creating thunderous shock waves of sound as it rends the armour of Bahamut’s attacking hands.

In his rage Bahamut retreats only to soar high above, and Noct watches almost unimpressed as a ring of glittering swords dance around his dragon-like figure, sharp steel ready to tear him to shreds. Accompanied by the piercing noise of scraping glass each blade shoots downwards at untoward speed, and Noct sets his feet and breathes deep. Power surges up through feet, through his body and to his hands, flooding in from the crystal’s magic all around him.

His shield of light holds fast as it’s bombarded by massive ornate blades. Each strike sends a shockwave through Noct’s body but he keeps his shaking limbs taught, his eyes burning red with his power flared up to its maximum. Each sword shatters on impact, Bahamut’s aggressive barrage continuing for what feels like an eternity until Noct momentarily fears he will lose this war of attrition. He cannot do this forever, he knows, and his body is doing well to remind him. His head pounds in agony.

Luckily it seems even the gods themselves are not immune to frustration. In one swift motion Bahamut’s blades disappear only for his sharpened wings to spread, and he dives head long, a single long sword in hand. Noct takes the opportunity to bring his blade of light around, crossing Bahamut’s path and slicing deep into the metal plates of his armour. It’s enough to send the god reeling back, giant eyes glaring viciously back at Noct for his defiance.

Noct’s attacks do not cease. The power coursing through him is immeasurable and immense. It burns through his veins and seeps from him, casting him in an ethereal glow as it bleeds off of his like white hot flames. After several successful attacks that leave the god’s armour torn and sundered his sword comes down to lock with Bahamut’s, and for a moment Noct stares into the disturbingly human eyes of a god as he shakes to hold him at bay.

He knows he’s risking his life. Bearing this power against the gods themselves may be suicide. He could very well be wasting the chance at life he was given. Each swing he takes brings him closer to the edge, and he’s dancing before the abyss. But he’s fuelled by rage, by determination, by…

He looks back over his shoulder. Ignis’ still form lies there.

Noct can practically feel his eyes burning bright crimson as he turns to face Bahamut’s crippled form. He brings the blade of light around again, slicing through the Draconian’s bladed wings like they are nothing and the shrapnel dissolves and wisps away. Each swing exhausts him, causes black to blur at the corner of his vision. Even so he does not yield.

“What would you do, usurper?” Bahamut hisses. “You walk the path to destroying your world.”

“No,” Noct growls back. “I’m no tyrant. I only want one thing. So you can do what you like, but I’m going to do what you wouldn’t.”

He turns his back to the god, unafraid.

In a flash of light like wings at his back he’s flying to kneel over Ignis once more.

He has no memories. He has no clue what Ignis really is to him, or him to Ignis. But he’s felt the phantom pains of their past together. No longer will Noct stand being ignorant, or let others suffer for him.

He can feel one thing inside him; a single choice. Here in this crystal space he is stronger than any god, and he has one chance. One he will take gladly.

Ever so gently he leans over Ignis, hands settling on either side of him as Noct presses his heated forehead to Ignis’ deathly cold one. His body vibrates like a live wire, every nerve on edge. White light radiates off him, flowing from all over his body until he and Ignis are encompassed by it. The heat of it dances along his skin, along his veins, but it doesn’t burn.

Noct can no longer tell if he’s in pain or not.

Perhaps he’s dying, perhaps not.

He closes his eyes and feels the hurricane of old magic swelling up inside him, bending time and space around him. What’s one little universal law, anyways? He is a king beyond gods.

_Bring it back. The memories of him. His life. All of it._

_Bring it back, bring it back, bring it back…_

“Give him back to me!”

Everything explodes in a burst of light and ringing and raw energy that rips outwards from deep within him.

He screams.

The world goes blank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is cheesy af but I just really wanted Noct to kick Bahamut's ass
> 
> Also between this chapter and the last one I'm not sure this is the explanation for Ignis' actions everyone was expecting, but I kept it simple and kind of vague because well, ep. Ignis v2 doesn't explain much and my imagination blanked. So this is entirely inspired by the idea that A) Ignis defeating Ardyn with the ring once somehow weakened him substantially, and B) Noct actually having his friends with him in the throne room somehow helped him bear the weight of the power he needed to finish Ardyn off (literal power of friendship??? idk). 
> 
> Also about Ignis.... I'm sorry


	10. Chapter 10

“Noct!”

Noct jolts forward, nearly falling right off the throne if not for the large hand that catches his chest and pushes him back.

His vision takes an eternity to fade in, but when it does he sees the concerned faces of Prompto and Gladio staring back at him. Looking closer the two of them look as worn out as he feels, covered in dried blood and grime and sweat.

He swallows hard, his bone-dry throat protesting painfully.

“Hey.”

Gladio shakes his head. “Really? We just saved the damn world and all you can say is ‘hey’?”

Noct slumps back in the throne, lips tugging weakly into a grin. His whole body feels half-numb still, and he can barely lift his heavy limbs. Blood pounds in his ears, and his head throbs with the rhythm.

“What happened?”

Prompto shakes his head. “Don’t know. We were in the crystal, I guess? Which was super weird, by the way. It burned kind of, but there was a moment where it was like… we were connected to you, you know? Then all that power we took in was just gone.”

“It was like you just pulled it right out of us. Not something I think I want to do again. We were there, and then we were just here. Like nothing happened. But you…” Gladio cuts himself off abruptly.

Noct frowns. “I what?”

“It’s been almost an hour.” Prompto says quietly, eyes downcast. “You didn’t move. We thought…”

 _Oh_. Noct looks to both of their weathered expressions. He can’t imagine how they felt, sitting here waiting to see if Noct really came back.

“You guys…”

Noct jumps up in his seat again, nerves alighting with pain but he ignores it, begging his body to react. He ignores the throbbing of each and every muscle, pins and needles prickling along his nerves.

“Ignis. Where is he?”

Images flash through his mind. Voices, too. So many it makes him dizzy. He grits his teeth against the pain, digging his fingers into his hair as memory after memory comes flooding in. Each thought assault his senses and poke at his inner reccesses, nestling into his subconscious as if they've always belonged there.

He sees Ignis clear as day, through all his years; all their years together. Hears his voice like it never left. Feels every last fleeting emotion and passionate feeling he ever had in those moments, so overloaded that Noct can't even register one singular sensation under he barrage.

Tears spill down his face freely as he’s lost in all these things he can’t believe he’d once lost.

It tugs his emotions in so many directions, to places he couldn’t fathom before. From happy to angry to bittersweet to lonely to warm to sorrowful… there’s no more empty space, no more dark shapes where Ignis once stood in his mind’s eye. He’s there, and Noct _remembers_ him there.

God, there’s so much _Ignis_ running through his mind, his chest tightens with the erratic pace of his breathing, the rapid thumping of his heart, and not even the shaking hand he brings up to clasp over his heart makes it stop. His head pounds violently, but it’s different than before. He’s breaking through this time.

Noct remembers their first meeting and how nervous he’d been, but then delighted as he took Ignis’ hand between his own at the prospect of a new friend. They’d sat on the steps of the throne room for a time trying to talk despite Noct’s awkwardness, and spent the rest of the day in the gardens, climbing one of the smaller trees there and getting all kinds of dirty. As they got older, that routine of getting into messes or sneaking off when Noct wanted to escape schoolwork became almost routine. They were children, after all, and for the most part they were allowed to be.

He can almost smell grass after it rains on the nights Ignis snuck him out from the Citadel to watch the stars and as he got older there’s the hum of a car engine as he’s whisked out of the city. It used to be Noct who would sneak out, Ignis dragged along under the pretense of making sure he didn’t get into any trouble, but he never complained, and he never stopped him. Noct knows he loved it too; he’d given Noct his book of star charts, after all, and inspired him with the old tales.

The attack after Tenebrae. Noct recalls awaking in the hospital to find his father slumped next to him, but now he can see Ignis was there too, head pillowed on Noct’s bed with their hands clasped together. Ignis had tried so hard to make Noct smile after that; to do what he could to make Noct’s life easier. Noct had changed that day, but so had Ignis.

The taste of pastries explode in his mouth, never quite right but always delicious because it was Ignis who made them. Sometimes it's different fruits, or specific berries, or a change in the dough and the powdery dusting on top. He got it right, eventually, and Noct thinks of that day in Galdin; the pastry left at his door. He thinks of the first time Ignis cooked for him as a young boy and how amazing it was, and the first real smile it had brought to his face in a long time. It was a simple dish that Noct can't even remember, but since then Ignis grew, as did his skills, and his repertoire. Noct would never tire of it. He used to joke that it was Ignis’ own kind of magic, bringing joy and satisfaction ever since.

All the days Ignis would do something simple like pick him up from school. Noct worked hard in school and did well, but Ignis would always offer to help him study, whether Noct needed it or not. He'd even occasionally stop by during the day to bring him lunch, and if Prompto teased him about it well, Noct just ignored it. He never mentioned the times Ignis would pick him up and drag Noct around on whatever errands he hadn't managed to complete during the day, though Noct didn't mind, most of the time.

The day Noct got a job Ignis was noticeably surprised, seeing as he didn't need it, but he was also proud, and that made Noct feel proud too. Between the job, the volunteer work at shelters Noct did over the weekends, and his increased presence at social events, willing or not, Noct had some semblance of enjoyment and accomplishment, and he was delighted whenever Ignis praised him for his hard work. They both worked hard, and Noct enjoyed the way it made them feel like equals, without the overbearing titles of prince and advisor. They were friends first, even in their tensest moments.

One day that praise and equality became Ignis teaching him—rather clumsily at first—how to dance and perform proper banquette etiquette. Noct had nearly burst, turning an alarming shade of red from both embarrassment and laughter, and they'd spent more time giggling and trying not to step on each other and bad-mouthing the snobby nobility than actually dancing or anything of the like. When they finally got it right, something shifted in the way they looked at each other, intense gazes locked, bodies warm and tucked tight, music a gentle soundtrack to whatever brilliant moment they were captivated by.

He sees the times Noct was sick and Ignis would spend the day with him, keeping pills by his bedside and fresh water, making him soup, sitting with him on the couch as they watched some dumb sitcom until Noct fell asleep. Then the very rare occasion Ignis was sick and Noct insisted on helping him in return because Ignis already does so much for him. He laughs despite himself at those memories; Ignis was always a grumpy patient.

As they got older and they got more accustomed to their ever-changing lives, Ignis started spending more time with Noct at home again. Sometimes doing their own work, sometimes watching dumb cheesy movies together, sometimes going for night drives all over town; and sometimes outside of it. Noct even convinced him to play video games sometimes, too, and not only did Ignis find it enjoyable, but he wasn't half bad at most of them. In return Ignis occasionally convinced Noct to try his hand and baking or cooking, and well... sometimes Noct did a half decent job, and sometimes they had to go out and buy new cookware. They don't talk about the time he started a small fire, but thankfully Noct had developed a proficiency for ice magic by that point.

Sometime in those later years Ignis was official inducted into the Crowsguard and both he and Noct had been overcome with excitement, though Ignis' stoic facade hid it much better than Noct. In his mind Noct catches the smell of sweat and the clashing of steel rings out, reminding him of the training room back home. Yes, Ignis had trained with Noct and Gladio and with other members of the guard, even though, as an advisor, he hadn't needed to, but arguing that anything that was within his power to do for Noct he would, including defending his life.

Despite his reservations on the matter, Noct quickly became a little too enamoured watching Ignis practising his more acrobatic techniques, his flexibility second to none. He’d made an amazing sight; an agile and deadly dance of daggers and lances that left Noct feeling dizzy and maybe, admittedly, a little aroused. The day Ignis showed his affinity for magic, so smoothly pulling flasks from Noct's armiger and sending them to his blades, Noct felt it like a caress, and he knew they had something special.

But they argued, too. Noct can’t so much hear the words but he can feel the torrent of mixed up feelings he’d had on the days when he’d seen his father’s deteriorating state, or the days he’d had to sit through council meetings and public appearances that only served to remind him that his life was not truly his own. Ignis could understand, and most of the time he helped. But the times when Ignis’ put his job first, the time Noct couldn’t see his friend but rather his advisor, when his frustrations got the better of him, those were the days that Noct truly felt alone. Prompto had been a blessing in that regard, but Noct missed Ignis.

They fought a few times; yelled and said things they would regret. Something changed between them on those days. But they came back together, like they always did. Ignis always came back, because that’s who he is, and he and Noct always found their footing again, different every time, but always solid.

All of it leading to the first night Noct had kissed him. They’d danced around each other for years, and both of them knew it. Ignis would sight propriety, Noct would sight cowardice. Both know the expectations of royalty. But somewhere along the way, Noct stopped caring, because he wanted that happiness, for as long as he could have it; as long as Ignis was willing to give it.

On Noct’s eighteenth birthday Ignis whisked him away to the rolling hills beyond the city wall to lay for hours on the roof of his car watching a meteor shower. Ignis had even baked those pastries again, this time adding a swirl of icing on top and a single candle which Noct couldn’t help but laugh a little at when Ignis offered it so sincerely. It all just timed out so perfectly, and in the quiet of that warm summer night with Noct radiating nervousness, he’d slipped his hand into Ignis’ and pulled him in, stared into those brilliant green eyes, begging the question, and when he found no resistance, he kissed him. They’d stayed like that for what felt like hours, huddled close and sharing teasing kisses, until both of their phones lit up with frantic messages concerning their whereabouts.

So their relationship had been since then. They kept it discrete for the most part, tried not to let it interfere with their duties. But they were young and their bond was so deeply ingrained, it was hard to keep to themselves once they'd finally broken down that wall between them. It got more physical as they got older, though awkwardly at first, of course. Neither of them had much knowledge or experience let alone interest before then. It didn’t matter though, because it was them, together, as they always wanted to be. Noct had been so weird about spilling his feelings, but once he did, once he’d professed his heart’s wanting words, he couldn’t stop, and Ignis always returned them, and Noct realized quickly that so much of what Ignis had done for him up until that point —his very place in his life— had always been out of love. They never told his father, but there were a few times, when Regis would say something strange or give the two of them a knowing look when they were together, that Noct wondered if perhaps maybe he knew.

On the day the marriage announcement came along with the envoy from Niflheim, it devastated any hopes of a future together, as naïve as they were. But while Noct had feared Ignis would end things then and there, maybe even leave for the sake of not causing any more pain or complications of interest, he did no such thing. Instead he’d let Noct rave his frustrations and expressed his own, and then later that night he took Noct to bed, showered him in soft kisses and tender touches, and had Noct seeing stars of his own.

In the afterglow he held him close and whispered, “I’ve followed you this far, and I'll stay with you for the rest of your days. I have, and always will love you. Nothing could tear me from you.”

Noct was so overwhelmed that night, but his tears were happy ones. Because he should never have doubted. That’s just who Ignis is.

Strength. Love. Home. Devotion.

How could Noct have forgotten that?

It’s like flying through a vortex when Noct’s memories bend and change shape. He’s seeing things from their journey, but now Ignis is there, fitting into all the right places. There's no more empty seat in the car, their tent is just a little more crowded at night, a figure taking up that empty space in group photos, delicious cooked meals at camp and another blade put forth in a fight. There's no more vacant space walking at Noct's side, because Ignis is there, as he once was and had always been.

Things in this world are different, almost dream-like, so much so that his body tingles with anxiousness. He knows he’s seeing memories that are decidedly _not_ his own. But Noct knows instantly that they’re Ignis’. He sees what Ignis saw so long ago, in a time that was. He sees Altissia and Ignis’ declaration as he bears the ring and fights against Ardyn for Noct’s life upon the Altar. He sees his face, scarred and _blinded_ and Noct chokes up at the sight as he promises his unwavering support to the very end.

_He did that for me._

Then the visions; his destiny, the one Ignis fought so hard against and risked all to change. Noct sees himself pinned to the throne, all alone and torn apart by the power of the crystal. His stomach twists violently at the sight and his chest tightens with a phantom pain.

Ignis, knelt at Noct’s feet where he sits dead upon the throne, with sunlight at his back and Umbra nestled close beside him. Noct watches Ignis pull the ring from his lifeless hand and crush it in his own, pressing a kiss to his closed fist. Noct can feel his anguish and his sorrow like it’s his own and it eats at him so thoroughly that Noct wishes he could escape this vision.

Ignis leans in and presses one last desperate kiss to Noct’s cold lips before he’s standing again, ring in hand. Noct had thought it destroyed during his final moments and the very sight of it in his hand makes him nervous. The vision fades, but Noct still hears Ignis’ voice.

_"I wish… to make a foolish demand of the gods.”_

_"The prophecy is fulfilled. What would you have of us?”_

_"I would ask for a chance. There has to be another way. For Noct to live, I—”_

_"What you wish is not possible.”_

_"The gods have never been known for the impossible. Whatever you would have of me, I would gladly give for a chance.”_

Silence. Noct holds his breath as if he is the one awaiting an answer. Then he hears, _“To gain one’s humblest desires, one must be willing to give all. To sacrifice for one’s king, will you accept this?”_

_"He is my king, but he is also my heart. For Noct… I fear there's nothing I wouldn’t do.”_

_"Futility and hubris is the bane of humanity. So be it.”_

Nothing more comes and Noct is lost for a moment in the emptiness before he’s suddenly thrust back to the waking world, staring out over the throne room like he’s been dreaming. The memories sink into his subconscious.

Noct brings his hands to cover his mouth as he weeps despite himself. His heart aches so bitterly with regret that he can’t bring himself to speak. The onslaught of emotions swirls so violently within he curls in on himself, head bent nearly between his knees, and his stomach twists with the tension.

He barely catches the audible gasps from his friends. For a moment he’s worried he’s the only one who remembers, but the two of them turn distraught faces to look to him, and he knows they’re getting it all back too.

So it worked. Noct really did it. He brought it all back.

He could laugh himself almost into hysterics if he wasn’t so haunted by the fact that Ignis isn’t _here_.

“Whoa…” Gladio groans as he shakes his head. “What the hell…?”

“Where is he?” Noct chokes out, already pushing himself onto his feet. He wobbles for a moment but stays upright.

Prompto swallows dryly, trying to focus despite the bombardment of memories. “He, uh… he left a little while ago.”

“Thought he was dead 'cause he wasn’t waking up either.” Gladio says. “But then suddenly he was fine. Like nothing happened. And he just left.”

Noct nods and makes for the stairs. The others don’t hesitate for a second before follow close behind.

The throne room has never felt so arduously never-ending; sinfully large, Noct thinks. The elevator ride is no better. Noct is nothing but apprehension and anxiety, foot tapping idly against the floor for every step he’s not moving. He needs to go. He needs to find Ignis.

“What just happened back there?” Prompto asks as they reach the foyer. “Like, that was real, right? I mean, Ignis, we… how could we forget all that?”

Noct winces. He doesn’t want to think about it. Not now. Not until he sees him.

“Yeah. It’s a long story. I’ll explain it later.”

“Damn right you’re going to explain.” Gladio says as they hurry out the doors of the Citadel.

It’s still dark out, and it’s begun to rain steadily. Noct doesn’t care. From the top of the steps of the Citadel he sees Ignis standing down below with his back to them. His hands are held palm-up to catch the rain and his head titled skyward, skin tinged red from the cold and his eyelashes flutter with each drop against his face. Noct has never loved a sight so much.

He doesn’t hesitate for a second before he’s running, careless of the slickness of the steps or the way his aching joints and tired muscle scream as he descends.

His emotions run as wild and ragged as a storm inside him. He remembers everything Ignis has ever made him feel, including the one thing Ignis refused to tell him before, right at the end. Something that is so intrinsically special it could not compare to anything else. Noct knows he wouldn’t have understood it before, but he remembers it now, and he may never allow Ignis to forgive him for forgetting it.

Each running step brings him closer, shoes slapping along the wet ground as rain soaks him through. His hair sticks to his face and his skin feels the chill but he refuses to stop.

Despite the burn in his throat Noct opens his mouth and hopes the storm doesn’t carry his voice away.

“Ignis!”

It’s a blessing when he sees Ignis flinch, hands dropping as he turns slowly to face him. His face—his beautiful, un-scarred face—stares back. Noct can’t help the way his mouth cracks into a wide smile, almost laughing at the sight of Ignis’ confused expression.

He can’t stop himself even as the distance between them shrinks. Something must click because Ignis is smiling now too as he faces Noct with his hands held open and waiting for him. Noct barrels right into him and Ignis moves on instinct to wrap his arms around Noct’s waist as they spin from the momentum. Noct throws his arms around Ignis’ shoulders, digging possessive fingers into his jacket as he’s lifted right off the ground.

He isn’t sure if he’s laughing or crying, he just knows as he buries his face into the crook of Ignis’ neck that this is what he’s been missing; this smell, this touch, this warmth, everything. This is what he’d almost lost for good. What he’d fought so hard to regain. His heart feels full as his missing piece finally clicks into place. He feels such an unfathomable love he would have doubted could even exist before, but here it resides within his own heart.

God, Ignis gave all this up to save him.

Noct pulls back just as they stop spinning and his toes touch the ground again, drawing Ignis’ eyes to his. He’s clearly in awe, as if scared this may all be a dream.

“I’m alive,” Ignis murmurs, a mere whisper.

“Yeah,” Is all Noct can seem to say through his giddy smile. His eyes are still stinging with tears. “Yeah, you are.”

One shaking hand rises slowly, and Ignis draws the back of his fingers gently down Noct’s cheek. He whispers a soft and hesitant, “I saved you.”

“You did.” Noct nods, tongue wetting his cracked lips with a grin. “And then I saved you.”

He slips his hands down and cups Ignis’ face, pulling him in to seal their lips together. It’s like coming home. The way Ignis’ melts into it instantly is enough to tell Noct how much he’s missed this. His hands cling to Noct’s sides like he’d rather die than be parted from this moment. Something wet and salty slips between the heat of their lips, and when Noct rubs his thumb soothingly along Ignis’ cheekbone he realizes he’s crying.

They stay like that for what feels like a blissful eternity. What started out as a passionate and forceful kiss dissolves into the soft, slow movement of their lips against one another. At some point Noct slips his hand down from Ignis face, all the way down the bloody sleeve of his coat until he finds his hand. Ignis seems to know what he wants immediately and entwines their fingers tightly while his other hand slides upwards and cups the back of Noct’s head, keeping him as close as possible.

It’s an amalgamation of everything Noct has felt he’s been missing for so long. It’s everything he once knew then forgot; it’s everything Ignis has had to do without. It’s warm touches and heated breath, all tenderness and love. Noct never wants to stop tasting Ignis on his lips ever again.

But his exhaustion and light-headedness catches up to him and he pulls away achingly slow, licking at the wetness of his lips while his mouth hangs open to catch his breath. He can’t quite open his eyes yet, moaning at the tenderness of Ignis’ fingers at the back of his neck playing gently with his hair, keeping him close.

There’s something to be said for how soothing it is just being able to hear Ignis’ heavy breathing in his ear and feel his comforting warmth surrounding him.

“Noct,” Ignis finally breathes, like he’s simply feeling the word on his tongue. “I missed you so much.”

“I know. Ignis, I remember. I remember everything.” Noct smiles despite himself, finally drawing his gaze up to meet the beautiful bright green eyes watching him fondly. “You.. you incredible, unbelievable idiot. You were never just my friend. You were— _are_ everything to me.”

Ignis’ breath hitches, but he swallows to try and hide it. Not that Noct doesn’t see the way his whole body loosens as years of tension finally fall from his shoulders.

“What did you do, Noct?”

“What I had to do to see you again.” Noct says, squeezing their hands together. “And to _know_ you again.”

“The gods, the deal I made—”

Noct chuckles warmly. “It’s okay. I promise, it’s over. Turns out being the chosen king has it’s perks.”

“But, I—”

Noct shushes him quietly, pushing in to press his lips briefly to Ignis’ soft mouth again and swallowing any doubtful words he’s about to say. Ignis doesn’t seem to mind.

“Don’t you ever do that again. I almost lost you.”

Ignis shakes his head sadly. “But I _did_ lose you, Noct. I swore to protect you and I failed. You were gone, and I—”

“I know,” Noct hushes him, pulling him into a tight hug. “I know, Ignis. I’m so sorry. But we did it. We’re both here. So never again, you hear me? Don’t you dare leave me again.”

As Ignis brings his arms up to wrap around Noct, he presses a smile and a gentle kiss into his skin. “Of course, Noct. But I don't make that promise unless you do.”

“I know, and I promise. Thank you.” Noct sighs outwardly, eyes sliding shut as he leans into Ignis. “And…thank you just… for loving me.”

Ignis chuckles deeply, a delightful vibration across his skin. “It’s not difficult, Noct. It should be me saying that to you.”

Noct hums at that. “And do you still? Love me, that is?”

“I could never do anything else.”

Noct twists his fingers into the back of Ignis’ coat and tries to beat down his blush like he’s a teenager all over again. His heart doesn’t feel so heavy now, with those words whispered into his ear so tenderly it sends shivers down his spine. It's overwhelming, almost scary, to hear Ignis bear the strength of his love so openly. Noct cannot imagine what it's been like, living two timelines of pain and heartache, and he wishes he could make him forget that, because he knows it will always haunt them both; the 'what-could-have-been's and the 'what-came-to-pass'. Ignis' love isn't scary because it's powerful, it's scary because Noct knows that feeling himself, and it will always be their driving force, and their ruin, just like it had been when Ignis made that deal. Even so, Noct wouldn't trade it for the world.

Right now he just wants to pull back and seek out Ignis’ mouth; maybe never do anything else ever again.

But he doesn’t get the chance.

“Okay, okay, enough of this gooey stuff.”

Noct and Ignis grunt almost in tandem as Prompto slams into them, arms wrapping around them both and squeezing their bodies tightly. Noct’s head is squished into Ignis’ neck almost painfully, his laugh muffled into the fabric of Ignis' collar. At least he hears Gladio when he joins them, another set of arms, bigger and bulkier, overtaking them.

“No kidding. Damn Iggy, I don’t know if I’m pissed that you pulled a stunt like that, or just happy you're back.”

“Gladio, Prompto,” Ignis shifts himself out of Noct’s hold so that the four of them are huddled together in a proper hug. “I know I left you all, but I—”

Gladio smacks a hand into Ignis’ back hard enough that Noct feels it too. “Okay, I’m going to stop you right there. This whole thing’s been crazy, so save those apologies for later. Or never, I don’t care. You’re both alive, so as far as I’m concerned, we’re good.”

Prompto laughs almost in Noct’s ear. “Yeah, can we have this nice moment for like, five minutes please?”

The four of them break off and Ignis gets a proper hug from both Gladio and Prompto. The rain begins to lighten as the four of them make their way down the main thoroughfare away from the Citadel. Despite everything, none of them have much to say, all too worn out to conjure up the plethora of questions they all must have. Once they’re somewhere safe and they’ve rested, Noct’s sure there’ll be stories to tell. 

It feels odd though, walking away from the throne he’s fought so hard to reclaim. But they’ll be back, he knows. He has a whole future to look forward to now, with his friends at his side as they rebuild their home and their kingdom, free of daemons and scourge and the long night. Free of the whims of gods, and the bitterness of immortals. 

Heat starts to warm his face and he winces when light strikes his eyes.

“Noct, look!” Prompto says excitedly, pointing off into the distance.

The sky, once so dark and sickly looking, is alight with pink and orange ribbons of colour. The dismal black clouds have thinned and dissipated, and in their wake sunlight is starting to spill out over the horizon.

“Damn,” Gladio says breathlessly as he rests an arm around Prompto’s shoulders. “How long’s it been?”

“Too long.” Ignis says, struggling to keep his voice level. “Far too long.”

Noct looks to him. He can only guess what Ignis is thinking. Right then and there he swears to himself that he’ll never let Ignis feel so lost and lonely again. He wants him to see every sunrise for a long time coming, and Noct is going to be there with him every day that he does. As the sky brightens he leans into Ignis' side, cementing that promise to himself, knowing he'll say it to Ignis' face later, over and over until he never doubts it.

For a time they all stand there, watching as the sun slowly peaks over the horizon, illuminating the land for the first time in too many years. It banishes the eerie feel to the world, and brings with it hope for a better future.

In the moment Gladio leans down and presses an unusually gentle kiss into the tufts of Prompto’s hair. Noct turns away to allow them a moment of privacy just as Prompto lifts his head and they share a proper kiss. He’s glad they’ve had each other the last ten years, but in truth he’s a little envious. Slipping his hand into Ignis’ he squeezes tight before leaning up to whisper in his ear.

“You know, when I’m officially king, I want you to be the one to stand beside me.”

Ignis turns sharply to look at him. Even though Ignis has set his visor back in place over his face against the sunlight, Noct can still see the way his eyes widen.

“Noct…”

“And I do mean ‘beside me’ in _every_ way.”

Ignis opens and closes his mouth, and then to Noct’s surprise he stifles a laugh into his palm. “I remember you making a similarly ill-timed yet nevertheless sincere proposal to me when we were younger.”

Noct’s cheeks heat as he thinks back to the rather unceremonious way he’d popped the question to Ignis in the afterglow of their first night together so many years ago. So young and naive, with no idea what the future would bring. The way Ignis had buried his reddening face into his pillow and muttered something about politics and procedure and some other nonsense before Noct had run to the bathroom and locked himself in there for half an hour in the panic of knowing he'd just essentially asked Ignis to marry him. Neither of them ever brought it up again and too much had happened to ever think they'd have the chance.

They’ve certainly come a long way. They both have quite the story to tell.

“Yeah, I remember.”

At that, Ignis’ face softens and he leans down just enough for their lips to brush.

“Yes, I suppose you do.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Our past forms the foundations of our present. We mustn’t forget that which made us what we are today_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the totally fluffy reunion I needed; kisses, spinning hugs, and all.
> 
> Thank you so very much to everyone who read, left kudos, and commented! This work was a real labour of love and I'm very grateful. The positive feedback has been so sweet and encouraging! Hopefully I can motivate myself to keep writing. 
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://hollowmachines.tumblr.com/) mostly, and sometimes on [twitter](https://twitter.com/HollowMachines) if you want to come say hi and talk to me about stuff


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